


Little Thief

by scribblemoose



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fantasy, Ferrets, Humour, M/M, Magic, action-adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-02
Updated: 2010-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-11 10:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Leon's still suffering from the dragon's attack several months later, Merlin is anxious to help. Meanwhile Arthur goes hunting, Merlin dabbles in things that he shouldn't, and they find themselves on a quest with an unusual companion....</p><p><a href="http://lili-flygirl.livejournal.com/6513.html">Cover art by lili-flygirl</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Merlin drilled the pestle into his bowlful of dried comfrey, chewing on his lower lip. The leaves shattered under his attack, only a few tough, leathery specimens resisting until the last.

"There’s some fresh honeysuckle in the basket over there," Gaius said. "Add about a handful."

Merlin obediently fetched the flowers and scooped a generous clutch out of the basket. He sniffed dubiously at them. "What am I making here, anyway? A salve or a potion or what?"

"A suspension," Gaius said. "Don’t grind the honeysuckle too finely, leave some flowers intact. Just bruise them enough to bring the scent out."

"Oh, I see. So it’s not medicine at all, it’s _perfume_. Actually, that would be quite handy. You should smell the inside of Arthur’s cupboards sometimes when they’re full of sweaty old socks. It’s disgusting!"

Gaius raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Technically speaking, it is your job to make sure the dirty laundry doesn’t go back into the cupboard, Merlin."

Merlin shrugged. "Things get a bit mixed up sometimes when I’m busy."

"Hmm. In any case, it’s not perfume. The ingredients are suspended in an oil which is heated gently in a special container." Gaius pointed at a little pot further up the table. It had an opening at the bottom a bit like a tiny kiln, with a dish-shaped top. "You put a candle in there, you see, and it heats the oil in the top to just the right temperature."

"The right temperature for what?"

"To release fumes, Merlin," said Gaius, as if it were obvious. "The patient inhales the fumes and that’s how the medicine enters their system. The ingredients of this particular preparation are far too toxic to be ingested any other way. Besides, it’s a remedy specifically to treat the lungs. This is the best way of getting the medicine where it’s needed."

"Right. Who’s it for?"

"Sir Leon. You know he’s had a very troublesome cough since...."

They exchanged a glance before Merlin looked away, crushing a pinch of honeysuckle hard between his fingers. Since the dragon, was what Gaius meant. Since Kilgara attacked Camelot, killing and maiming people and wrecking stone and timber and anything he could reach in his terrible, awful rage.

"Dragon’s fire is particularly troublesome," Gaius said. "It sears the lungs, badly affecting the membranes on the inside which-"

"Yes, yes, you explained that before," Merlin interrupted. "Membranes, scorched, magical, won’t heal properly, got it. So this oil thingie will help, will it?"

Gaius prodded the basket of honeysuckle with his stirrer. "Yes. Yes, I think so."

He didn’t sound very convinced.

*

"You’re in good spirits this morning, Sire."

Arthur flung his window open wide and leaned out, breathing in big lungfuls of fresh summer air. "How could I not be? Look at that sky, Merlin."

Merlin peered over Arthur’s shoulder. "It’s blue," he observed.

"Very good, Merlin! And do you know what that means?"

"Er... it’s not going to rain? Probably?"

"Quail, Merlin! It’s spring! That means quail!"

"What from?"

"What?"

"You said quail, I just wondered why we would be quailing. Especially you. You hardly ever quail." Merlin smiled brightly.

Arthur stared at him as though he were speaking a foreign language. Badly.

"Because, you know, you’re quite brave. Generally speaking," Merlin elucidated.

"Merlin?"

"Yes Sire?"

"What the blazes are you talking about?"

Merlin wished he could go back to the part where Arthur was blathering about the colour of the sky and busy being in a good mood. "You said-"

"Because you’d better not be suggesting I’d run away from a stupid _bird_."

Now Merlin was truly lost. "Bird? What bird? What?"

"The _quail_, Merlin. It’s the start of _quail_ season."

Light dawned for Merlin. "Oh! You mean quail the bird! Not quail the cowering!"

"That’s right, Merlin!" Arthur's voice dripped with sarcasm. "There, you got there in the end. It’s not as if you were born stupid or anything."

"So you’ll be wanting your hunting jacket then?"

"An excellent notion. See, you’re going from strength to strength here. Before long you’ll have developed the mental capacity of, oh, I don’t know, a weasel, maybe?"

"Actually, weasels are quite clever." Merlin crossed to Arthur’s cupboard and started rifling through the jackets that were hanging up there. He flicked past the red and the tan and finally his long fingers came to rest on smooth black suede. He pulled it out and returned to the window, where he fitted it snugly to Arthur’s broad shoulders and strong arms.

"Have the horses ready and waiting in the courtyard. I’ll meet you there with the master falconer shortly."

"Horses?"

"Yes, Merlin, big four-legged creatures that you ride. For hunting."

"No, I mean, how many horses?"

"My new mare, she could use the exercise. Whatever it is you’re riding these days. Oh, and something sedate for Rupert."

"Rupert?"

"The Master Falconer."

"He’s coming on the hunt too?" Merlin tried not to sound suspicious, but Rupert Greslet was an odd man; he looked far too much like the hawks and falcons he cared for and Merlin didn’t completely trust him. His servant always looked frightened and Gaius tended to give him hard stares whenever they saw him in the lower town. "I would have thought you’d do better with one of the knights."

"He's the biggest expert in falconry in the whole of Camelot, and he's hand-reared this hawk specifically to hunt quail. Of course he's coming!"

"Great," said Merlin with forced enthusiasm.

"It's going to be a good day, Merlin. I can feel it in my bones."

Merlin really wished that Arthur wouldn't say things like that.

*

"Are you going somewhere?" Gaius said, watching Merlin stuff things in his bag.

"Hunting. With Arthur and some bird and dogs and horses, oh and some guy who knows about falcons."

"Rupert Greslet?"

"That's the one."

Gaius pulled a face.

"Yes, I know," said Merlin.

"I hope he won't keep you too long. I promised Geoffrey you could help him with an errand."

"Thanks, that's just what I need, someone else to work for."

"Merlin," Gaius said, a gentle chastisement. "It's a personal favour. He's had some problems with his shoulder and there's a book pedlar coming to Camelot this afternoon whom he particularly wants to see."

"A pedlar?"

"Yes, Merlin, a pedlar. Where else do you think books come from?"

"I don't know. I just supposed that Uther would ask and it would, you know," Merlin snapped his fingers, "appear."

"How? By magic?"

"Maybe. Geoffrey could be a sorcerer. He's got the whole beard-and-robes thing going for him. And those eyebrows. Very wizardly."

Gaius rolled his eyes. "Well, that's not what happens. So he needs some help carrying books."

Merlin hauled his bag up onto his shoulder. "I'd better get going, then. Sooner Arthur gets to kill something, sooner I get back."

"Splendid," said Gaius. "Off you go."

*

At least it made a change to be out in the open. Quail, apparently, weren't that interested in forests. They also didn't run very fast, or at least the whole grisly process didn't require Merlin to do much running after them. He mostly got to stand around with the horses and watch Rupert and Arthur stalking around in the tall grass like a couple of demented heron.

"Idiots," Merlin confided to his horse. "If they had any idea how ridiculous they look..."

His horse tossed its head and even Arthur's mare stamped a foot, seemingly in agreement.

Above them the hawk circled, going about its business in a graceful, if deadly fashion. At first glance it looked like teamwork, Merlin thought: the dog quietly leading the men to the prey; the men stalking through the undergrowth, flushing it out for the hawk to kill.

But it wasn't like that really. If the men weren't there, or the dog, the hawk wouldn't go hungry. The men and the dog were playing games. The hawk was the only true hunter.

"That's something I might not say out loud in front of Arthur," Merlin told his horse.

As the day moved from morning towards the other side of noon the number of quail strapped to the pack horse steadily increased. They were small birds, not much meat on them (and even less on the one the hawk had snacked on) which apparently meant they needed to kill a lot of them. Merlin watered the dogs and horses while Arthur and Rupert ate bread, cheese and ham and discussed lures and hoods and bells. The hawk was quiet; tethered, tamed, watching Merlin out of one beady little eye as if he might be interesting to eat.

Merlin reminded himself that the power of a dragonlord coursed through his veins, and it would thus be ridiculous to be scared of a smallish bird, however cruel its beak and talons. He tried to give it a hard stare back, but the thing was cunning and turned its back.

Merlin retreated to the tree where the horses were tethered, and sat leaning against its trunk. He'd succumbed to the warmth of the afternoon and let his eyes slide closed (just for a moment) when the dogs started to bark.

"What? Arthur!"

Merlin was on his feet and took in the facts in a few fleeting seconds. The hawk was circling; Arthur's sword was flashing; Rupert Greslet was nowhere to be seen.

And Arthur was surrounded.

Merlin quickly hid behind the tree and outstretched his hand. He spat spells that Arthur, with his back to him, couldn't see; heating the sword hilt of one assailant, lifting tree roots to trip an unwary axe-wielder (whose axe conveniently landed in his comrade's thigh) and tightening the armour of another swordsman to the point he was struggling for breath and trying to tear it off his body. Arthur remained oblivious, pushing the battle with the other three men in the opposite direction, further into the plain.

Merlin let his magic ebb and released the dogs to finish the job.

It was over as suddenly as it had begun; two men lay dead and the other four fled across the plain towards the distant promise of cover. Arthur's eyes flashed as angrily as his sword, while Merlin calmed the horses.

"Where the Hell did they come from?" said Arthur.

"I've no idea. They seemed to just appear out of nowhere. Are you alright?" Merlin bit his lip, too late to take back the intensity of his concern. His tongue got the better of him sometimes, he couldn't help it.

"I'm fine. Thanks. How could they have just _appeared_?"

"I'm okay too, thanks for asking."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Wait, they didn't just appear. There's a trail, here." Arthur pointed at indentations in the soft earth near where he stood. Merlin took a closer look, dropping to one knee to gently touch the soil and flattened grass.

"You're right."

"Of course I'm right, Merlin. They came from over there," Arthur pointed towards the sparse woodland towards the eastern horizon. He looked around him, up at the sky, and back to Merlin. "Where's Rupert?"

"I don't know. He was here just before the dogs started to bark, I think., The bird was there-" Merlin pointed at the sky, "-and then he was gone. I don't know where..... oh."

Arthur turned, following Merlin's gaze. The hawk had settled a few yards away with a rabbit, close to one of the dead bandits. The blood from its kill pooled with the blood from the man; Merlin had to look away for fear he'd be sick. Arthur would never let him live it down if he was.

"I'm not sure Rupert can be trusted," Merlin said, fixing his attention once more on the horses.

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. I expect he was just scared."

"Can't be a very good hunter if he's no good in a fight."

"Ha! You're hardly one to talk. Come on, something tells me that's the end of today's hunt. The hawk won't fly when she's full and the dogs won't settle. Let's find Greslet and go home."

"We might not be able to find him," said Merlin.

"Then we'll send out a search party when we get back to Camelot. Hurry up, Merlin and keep your eyes open. I've had quite enough surprise attacks for one day."

*

As it turned out, they found Rupert Greslet almost immediately; he was cowering under a bush near the stream, white as a sheet and actually shaking. Merlin might have felt sorry for him, had Arthur not gone out of his way to comfort the man and reassure him. Whenever Merlin was scared - usually because he was in mortal danger due to some stupid scrape Arthur had got him into - all that ever happened was that Arthur gave him pitying glances that made him feel pathetic, and told him to stop being a girl. Which Merlin always thought was a stupid thing to say anyway. He knew some girls who were far braver than him. He wondered what would happen if Gwen overheard Arthur saying things like that.

"Stop smirking, Merlin, and help Rupert back onto his horse."

Merlin sighed deeply, and did as he was told.

It wasn't his fault the horse bolted.

Well, mostly not, anyway.

*

"There. Keep it in the sling for at least a week, and use this salve to help with the bruising."

Merlin and Gaius watched Rupert Greslet limp out of Gaius's workroom.

"Nasty dislocation," Gaius said.

"I could tell, the way he was crying like that."

"Alright, Merlin. What did you do?"

"Nothing! It was the horse!"

Gaius gave him one of those looks that made Merlin want to disappear. Or start whistling innocently.

"It's not my fault the horse got spooked! It was the bird."

"Oh, really? Any other animals you'd like to rest the blame with? An errant shrew, perhaps?"

"Shouldn't I be going to help Geoffrey with his books?"

"Merlin," said Gaius, in his warning tone.

"I thought I saw something, in the bushes, just as I was helping him back on his horse. We had just been attacked by bandits, if you remember."

"And?"

"I knew I couldn't use magic, so I grabbed a sword. For some reason the bird thought I was attacking its master. It got all... squawky, and the horse got upset."

"The hawk attacked you?"

"It didn't do any damage. It turns out hawks are quite susceptible to particular wind currents," said Merlin, then took a step back from the full force of Gaius's glare. "I was so subtle, honest, you'd never have known! It was barely a breeze!"

Gaius sighed a deep, long-suffering sigh. "If anyone saw you..."

"They didn't, okay? Would you rather I had my eyes clawed out by some bird? Really?"

"Of course not, Merlin. I worry about you, that's all."

Merlin looked away, fighting guilt and frustration for the sake of the deep affection he had for Gaius and the conviction that how ever many times they had this conversation, it wouldn't change anything.

"Geoffrey will be waiting in the archives. Try not to get into any more trouble?"

"Promise," said Merlin with a grin. "What trouble could I get into with Geoffrey, after all? A bar-fight?"

Gaius chuckled. "You'd be surprised, Merlin. Geoffrey had his moments, back in the day."

"Really?" asked Merlin, curious. He couldn't imagine Geoffrey of Monmouth as a young man, or Gaius, come to that. "Did you have adventures?"

"Oh yes. But those are stories for another time. Come on, Merlin, we've both got work to do."

"Spoilsport." Merlin picked up his bag and slung it on his shoulder. "I'll might just ask Geoffrey instead."

Gaius just laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

The market was extremely busy. As well as the usual throng of local traders and farmers, there was a circle of carts Merlin didn't recognise as regulars in Camelot. Dressed in vibrant red and green silk, each cart spilled out exotic goods: rich spices; bolts of sheer fabric in shades and textures that Merlin had never see anyone but Morgana wear; coloured glass and odd-shaped pots and some weird objects Merlin didn't recognise at all. At the furthest reach of the circle from where they entered was a set of makeshift shelves and tables crowded with books and scrolls. There was no doubt that this was Geoffrey's quarry: he moved at a speed Merlin would never have dreamed him capable of, eyes bright and fixed firmly on the treasures ahead.

His enthusiasm was infectious, and Merlin approached the stall eagerly at Geoffrey's side. There were books _everywhere_, of all sizes and shapes of bindings, some simple, some elaborate, all looking incredibly expensive.

The pedlar greeted Geoffrey warmly and immediately took him to a corner where a pile of books waited under a dark velvet cloth. Geoffrey began to exclaim happily about whatever he found there, and Merlin couldn't help but smile. While Geoffrey and the pedlar (who apparently was called Henry and was every bit as ancient as Geoffrey himself) talked about old languages and illuminated texts and scribes and ink qualities, Merlin drifted around the stall and wallowed in the smell of parchment and dust. He couldn't resist touching, running his fingers across smooth hide and metal clasps, tracing the outline of a title carved deep in leather. He wandered the crooked shelves and piles, until he found himself right at the back of the stall, where the books were old and dusty and scroll-cases teetered, heaped in shaky pyramids.

Merlin's spine tingled and he realised, with a shock, what he was looking at something magical.

"Ah," came a voice from behind Merlin, just to his left. "You have an expert eye."

Merlin thrummed with fear; there was a recognition in that voice that he didn't want to hear. "Not really. Just looking."

He dared to look over his shoulder, fixing a smile on his face, and met the gaze of the young man - no more than a boy, really, several years Merlin's junior - standing behind him. He was leaning against one of the big wooden posts that held up the awning over the books; he looked supremely confident and self-assured, dressed in snug suede breeches and a shirt of fine cream linen caught at his hips by a wide leather belt. A silk scarf tied around his head kept unruly curls of dark, glossy hair out of his face. He made Merlin feel somehow untidy.

"I can always tell," the boy said.

"Tell what?" Merlin kept his expression soft and pleasant and as neutral as he could, despite the fact that his heart was pounding and his legs all but twitched with the desire to just _run_.

"A gentleman's interests."

Merlin laughed. "Oh, I'm not a gentleman."

The boy raised an eyebrow.

To his dismay, Merlin felt heat across his cheeks as he realised what that eyebrow meant. "No! I mean, I'm not... I'm just a servant." But he couldn't resist adding, with more pride than he'd care to admit to, "Prince Arthur's servant, actually."

"Yes. I think you might find the scrolls to the left of the large tome right in front of you of particular interest. The ones in the cases with the black caps."

"Seriously, I don't think so. I haven't got any money anyway."

"Money isn't always necessary."

Merlin swallowed. "I should be going. I'm supposed to be helping...." he pointed roughly in Geoffrey's direction.

The boy nodded once, slowly, and smiled a smile that came more from cunning than kindness, eyes slanted to give him the appearance of a stalking cat. As much as Merlin wanted to run far, far away, he couldn't help but be fascinated. "Please, sir, feel free to browse as you wish. If you need any help, I'll be around the back."

Merlin nodded and smiled, trying very, very hard not to look at the scrolls, just the books, hands clasped safely behind his back. He started to count to fifty, after which he thought it would probably be a respectable time to leave without it looking quite so certainly like he was running away.

But no sooner had the boy begun to walk away than he turned back, giving Merlin another of those penetrating looks. "By the way, do you know Gaius? The physician?"

"Yes," Merlin said. "Everyone knows Gaius."

"Please send him my regards. My name is Aloysius. I've done business with him on many occasions. We share a special interest in the _healing_ arts."

There was no doubting the innuendo in the boy's tone. Magic. Healing _magic_.

Merlin wavered, caught as ever between fear, excitement and intense curiosity. His gaze flickered inevitably to the scrolls. He could all but see them sparkle: fascinating, forbidden objects.

"I do have a bit of an interest in, um, medicine," Merlin said, as neutrally as he could manage.

"Ah! I thought so, and I'm never wrong. If I could suggest..." He was at Merlin's side in an instant, rapidly plucking a selection of scroll cases from the shelf. "We discovered these just last year, in the Western Isles. Please, take a look. If there's anything you'd like I'd be very pleased to discuss terms."

"No, I, I couldn't, really, I have no-"

It was too late: the scrolls were in Merlin's arms and he was reading the markings on the cases. Ancient markings that were in a language most people didn't understand, nearly all of Camelot feared and Uther would kill him just for being able to read. But you can't _not_ read words right under your nose just because they’re forbidden, and this was a language that Merlin had known since the minute he picked up the spell book Gaius gave him, without even understanding how he'd learned it. The letters and words gleamed in front of his eyes and made perfect, unutterable sense.

_ ~ Treatment for magical impairments ~ Antidotes for Evil Curses ~ _ and then the blue one, the one he'd most been drawn to....

_~Common injuries inflicted by dragonnes and their cure. ~_

Merlin dropped the scrolls to the ground as if burnt. Aloysius laughed, and knelt to pick them up.

"Who _are_ you?" said Merlin, stepping back in horror.

"Just a pedlar's son," Aloysius said. "Just like you are just a servant."

"Prince Arthur's servant," Merlin whispered. "I could have you hanged."

"Yes, but I don't believe you will," said Aloysius, with absolute conviction. "I think you want these, or one of them in any case." He picked out the blue scroll-case and tapped its black end with two long fingers. "Surely it's not wrong, to want to heal the sick?"

Merlin looked at Aloysius for a long, long moment. He couldn't trust him. He couldn't trust _anyone_. He knew this. And yet....

"How much?" he said.

He didn't miss the sparkle in Aloysius's eyes. Showing he'd won.

"Money is meaningless when it comes to this kind of thing."

"Well, that's good, because I don't have any."

"But you have your own value, Servant-to-the-Prince."

"I won't let anyone hurt Arthur."

Aloysius laughed. "I'm not interested in _Arthur_."

Another thought occurred to Merlin and he couldn't stop himself from blushing again. "I don't.... not for, I mean- I like girls."

Merlin chewed on his lower lip and hoped that Aloysius wasn't one of those people who procured young boys for rich ladies, even as he squashed down guilt at the silent betrayal inherent in his lie. Because as much as he did like girls, he remembered all too well the fleeting stupid times he'd thought that he and Arthur, (_wanted_ him and Arthur) and he knew exactly what that made him.

"You're a complicated one, aren't you?" Aloysius said. He almost sounded sympathetic. "Don't worry, I'm not after your body. I'm sure it's very nice, but all I want is a bit of extra luck."

"Luck?"

"See that tent over there?"

Merlin followed the direction of Aloysius's pointing finger to see a colourful pavilion tent, a green and red diamond-patterned flag flying from its peak. "What of it?"

"There is a game due to take place in there at the top of the hour, yielding prizes beyond your wildest dreams."

"A game?"

"A game of chance."

"Ah, no. I'm no good at that kind of thing. I'm so rubbish at dice Will gave up playing me, said it was too boring to win all the time."

"I don't want you to play. I want you to help _me_ play."

The not-nice smile said it all.

"You want me to help you cheat?"

"Well, not exactly how I'd put it but… yes."

"At dice?"

"It's a bit more elaborate than you're probably used to, but… yes, I suppose that's the nub of it. You help me win a nice jackpot and the scrolls are yours."

"You must think I'm insane," Merlin said. "You want me to… _help_, in full view of half of Camelot? And that's assuming a lot about how well I might be able to, um, help, or even that I-"

Aloysius held up his hand and shook his head. "Forgive me, Merlin. Forget I ever asked. I should have guessed that the servant to a Prince wouldn't want to get involved in anything so shady. Not even if it might help him to save lives. There's a proper way to do things, I understand that, I really do. I'm quite embarrassed even to have asked. Please, accept my most heartfelt apologies. I'll bid you farewell and steal no more of your precious afternoon."

He'd gone before Merlin could even frame a sentence in reply. And Merlin should have been relieved, really he should.

He _should_.

*

Geoffrey had assembled a teetering pile of books at his side already, and he was showing no signs of having finished. Merlin felt odd, sort of dirty, and went for a walk around the other stalls to take his mind off Aloysius and the unexpected temptation he'd put in Merlin's way. He was looking at some very oddly-shaped dried vegetables with weird pictures carved into them when he heard a familiar voice.

"Hello, Merlin! Are you looking for a gift for Arthur too?"

"Sir Leon." Merlin managed an approximation of the sort of bow people usually gave Arthur's Knights. If nothing else it hid the fact that he found it hard to look the man in the eye, afraid of what he might betray if he did so. "You want to buy Arthur a gift?"

"It is his birthday next week. It's traditional, I believe." Leon smiled kindly.

"I'm not sure it's something servants do," Merlin said, trying to remember if Arthur had been offended last year, as Merlin certainly didn't recall giving him anything. Then again, he had spent most of his birthday out on a hunt and there had been a lot of wine… and the year before there had been his coronation.

"Of course not, forgive me," Leon said. "I forget sometimes that yours isn't a relationship of equals, you and Arthur are so…"

"Professional?" Merlin suggested optimistically.

"I was going to say-" Leon began, but before he could finish his sentence he started to cough. It was a rough, hacking cough the likes of which Merlin hadn't heard before, and the pain it caused was plain on Leon's face. And the worst thing was, once it had started, Leon didn't seem to be able to stop. He coughed and coughed, bent double with it, red in the face, tears streaming down his cheeks, and Merlin could do _nothing_ but put a kindly arm around Leon's shoulders and help him fumble the small potion bottle from his pocket. Leon's hands were shaking so it was Merlin who popped the stopper from the bottle and held the vial to Leon's lips. He waited for a tiny pause in Leon's coughing and tipped a slosh of medicine into Leon's mouth. Leon swallowed and managed a hoarse "Thank you, Merlin, you're so kind," before he started to cough again.

It eased in a few moments, leaving Leon to slump on the ground, forehead resting on his knees, wheezing. Merlin re-stoppered the medicine bottle and put it back in Leon's pocket, swiftly rubbing the back of his hand over his own eyes while his face was hidden in the shadow of Leon's long red cloak.

He could hear Leon's breathing, harsh and forced, every breath a struggle. Merlin rubbed his back and sniffed, as quietly as he could, choking back what threatened to become big fat tears. "I'm so sorry," Merlin whispered.

"It's hardly your fault, Merlin."

"You'll get better."

Leon shook his head. "Gaius says perhaps not. Certainly not well enough to take up my duties again. But that's not so bad, Merlin. I can serve my King in other ways."

That was when Merlin made the mistake of looking at Leon's face, and seeing the lie he'd just told as plain as day. It shot through Merlin's heart like a dagger and twisted, hard, when Leon said in a tight, breathless voice, "It's my duty to protect Camelot. I'm glad I did it when I had the chance. I would gladly have paid with my life, if it had come to that. I know you feel the same."

Merlin couldn't trust himself to speak. He nodded, keeping his lips in a tight, straight line, and held back the tears by sheer force of will.

"Help me up?" Leon said, one hand outstretched. Merlin clasped it firmly and tugged him to his feet; Leon coughed again, but it was looser, kinder than before.

"I think I might look over there," Leon said. "Thank you, Merlin."

Merlin forced himself to smile, and watched Leon cross the circle to another stall, where there were cages and pens, and an exotic-looking bird could be heard squawking in a rhythm almost like human speech.

Leon moved more slowly than he used to. Before he got half way across the circle, Merlin was back at the book stall, ducking around to the back shelves without Geoffrey noticing.

Aloysius was waiting for him.

*

The gaming tent was intensely crowded and smelt of stale beer and damp, stifled grass. Merlin recognised faces, mostly men he'd seen on the rare occasions he'd been to the Rising Sun. Some were ordinary townspeople, some of the less reputable variety. One or two he recognised as guards or servants. He suspected that the man hiding in a dark corner, shielding his face with a hand, had a lot to lose from being seen somewhere like this - probably a nobleman or maybe even a knight. Merlin made sure not to find out who he was. Some stones were better left unturned, however curious he might be.

He followed Aloysius through the throng to the centre of the tent, where there was a table, with half a dozen men stationed around it. A woman stood at the head of the table, rattling a shaker in one hand. Merlin found himself staring: she was very pretty. Red hair tumbled to her shoulders; her green velvet dress hugged her ample curves and a green pendant quivered at her bosom. Her dress was cut very low, revealing a good deal of creamy, pale skin. Merlin could barely drag his eyes away.

The man nearest to her tossed a few coins onto the table. Merlin noticed then that it was covered in a smooth sheet of canvas, and on the canvas were painted a series of numbered squares. Some had piles of money on.

"The Lady plays sevens, eleven and double six," the woman called. Her voice was velvety-smooth and bore an accent that Merlin couldn't quite place. She shook the dice one last time and tossed them onto the table. "Two threes," she pronounced. "The Lady wins."

"That's Lady Margaret," Aloysius whispered. "It's her house."

Merlin blinked at him

Aloysius rolled his eyes at Merlin's ignorance. "That means she runs the tables."

"Oh," said Merlin.

The losing gamblers at the table groaned and one of them swore under his breath, but all three of them got fresh coins from their purses to place on the board.

"Room for two more?" Aloysius asked with a polite bow at Lady Margaret.

"The Lady welcomes all to her table. Place your wager, gentlemen, and good luck."

"You'll need it," muttered the man at Aloysius's right as they took their seats.

Merlin fiddled nervously with the small bag of pennies Aloysius had given him. There were a lot of people around, and while some were focused on action in other corners of the tent, the Lady Margaret's dice had caught a sizeable crowd.

"Lucky seven," said the man sitting opposite Merlin, and tipped a handful of coins on the seven square.

"Double four," muttered the one next to Aloysius.

"Two," said the other.

"I'll take eight," Aloysius said.

Everyone looked expectantly at Merlin.

"Um," he said. "Er, I don't know, I've never played-"

"Just pick a number," hissed Aloysius.

Merlin took out a couple of pennies, and placed them neatly on the twelve-square.

"Double six," Margaret said, "plays lucky seven, double four, two and eight. The Lady rolls."

She tossed the dice from her shaker across the table to land just in front of Merlin. Six dots on each upturned side.

Merlin grinned.

"Double six wins, the Lady loses," Lady Margaret said. "Take your gains, the game continues."

Merlin scooped up the pennies he'd put down, and it was only when Aloysius kicked him under the table that it sank in he'd done more than saved his stake. He felt very stupid as Aloysius shoved the rest of the money on the table towards him.

Aloysius was giving him an amused sort of look. Merlin didn't know how to tell him he hadn't started cheating yet without arousing suspicion, so he avoided the boy, fixing his gaze back on the Lady Margaret instead.

"Choose your numbers, gentlemen. Sweet doubles this round only."

"Sweet doubles?" Merlin whispered to Aloysius.

"If you win with a double the house doubles your winnings."

"Really?" said Merlin.

"Double five," Aloysius said, piling coins on the board.

The rest of the table followed suit, leaving Merlin to be last again. He hesitated for a few seconds, then put a handful of pennies on seven.

"The Lady plays double ones, threes, fives, sixes and an old fashioned seven. Rolling sweet doubles."

Merlin got a measure of the dice as soon as they left the cup. He kept his head down and his eyes mostly-shut and with the softest push from his mind he kept the dice turning, six, four, two….

"Come on, sweet luck," Aloysius whispered to the dice.

…five and five.

"Double five wins sweet doubles, Lady pays," Lady Margaret proclaimed. If she was suspicious she didn't show it. Merlin relaxed a little; she seemed quite nice and he didn't want to start trouble with anyone here, of all places.

Slowly and cautiously Merlin picked his opportunities, treading a fine line between growing Aloysius's winnings as they'd agreed and avoiding suspicion. He rationed his magic to occasional rounds, leaving the dice to fall naturally at other times. Once he even changed the dice so that the man at the Lady's left would win instead of himself. Merlin seemed to have brought a dose of beginner's luck to the table, and nice as it was to win, he was under no illusion as to what would happen if he and Aloysius completely monopolised the winnings between them.

Twenty throws later and there were another three men at the table and a growing crowd watching. Merlin kept a careful eye on the Lady Margaret but she seemed as indifferent as ever to the outcome of each round, simply throwing the dice and calling the numbers. Although once she caught Merlin gazing at her and winked at him. Merlin smiled back at her, and got a dig in the ribs from Aloysius's elbow for his trouble.

Chance was an odd thing, Merlin realised. It was scrupulously unfair, even without magic intervention, but it gave the illusion of beneficence from time to time, just enough to raise hopes among the desperate. Even a brief run of luck for one person was enough to tighten the atmosphere, making everyone alert and keen even as they put on their masks of perfect indifference. If the same person won twice in a row, three times, others became reckless in their bets, driven by the hope that surely next time it _must_ be them.

This kind of luck was fickle and frightening, Merlin decided, and could be as much of a curse as a blessing. It also meant that the likelihood of anyone discovering his magic was slight; so long as he varied the outcomes people were far too caught up in their own dreams of winning to truly notice anything amiss, and irregularities were easily passed off as flukes or strokes of luck.

Just as Merlin was relaxing into his new job, there was an almighty clatter as a pile of Aloysius's fast-growing collection of coins fell to ground. Aloysius dived under the table, tugging on Merlin's arm until he smiled apologetically at the rest of the players (and the Lady of course) and joined him.

"Be careful," Aloysius whispered. "I think the Lady's on to you."

"Lady Margaret? How?"

"Haven't you noticed how much you're winning?"

"I'm being really careful! I haven't won for myself on purpose once!"

"That's not the point!"

Aloysius bobbed his head up above the table for a moment. "Carry on, we'll rejoin you next round! Sorry!"

"What d'you mean, that's not the point?" said Merlin urgently, as Aloysius bobbed back.

"Haven't you counted your winnings lately?"

"No, I just thought… why does that mean she's on to me? Couldn't it just be luck?"

"You really haven't done this before, have you?"

"No," Merlin said.

"Give me strength," Aloysius muttered under his breath. "Okay, then, try this. Don't interfere with the game at all for the next five rounds and see what happens. Now, pick this lot up. And don't miss any."

Merlin wondered what it was about him that made other people think he'd take their orders when he'd only known them for an hour. But he picked the coins up just the same.

Back at the table Merlin did as Aloysius had suggested, and let the game take its course for the next five rounds.

He won every single time.

Merlin was confused at first. He was pretty certain Lady Margaret wasn't using magic, and the dice looked perfectly even, as did the table. She tossed them in the same place on the board each time, using the exact same flick of her delicate wrists. Every time Merlin picked a different number: two, ten, eleven, three, five - and every time it came up.

Merlin gripped the edge of the table, canvas rough under his fingers, and thought fast. If the Lady was cheating - and he was sure she must be, somehow - she'd know right away that something was wrong if he used magic. If he didn't use magic, he'd keep winning until the other gamblers got suspicious.

If only he knew _how_ she was cheating.

The next time the Lady picked up the dice, Merlin slowed time.

She turned the dice in her hand before she tossed it into the shaker; nothing suspicious about that except that she _looked at it_. She was choosing the upmost number before she slid first one die and then the other into the shaker, the precision of her movements disguised by pure speed and sleight of hand. The dice were shaken but they didn't roll, not until they tumbled out onto the table.

Second by second, Merlin watched the dice roll across the canvas. They weren't moving evenly. They lurched as if some weight were tugging at them, some force pulling them off balance.

He could feel no magic, but something about the way the dice finally settled, as if suddenly and forcefully glued to the table, reminded him of one of Gaius's experiments with lodestones. Merlin scanned the canvas carefully; the patch where the dice fell was perfectly flat and smooth.

Merlin let time fall back into place, and in the hubbub that followed his latest win he leaned in close to Aloysius and whispered, his lips barely moving, "I'm betting on twelve. Put all your money on the same."

"Are you sure?"

"Course I am," said Merlin, thankfully sounding a great deal more confident than he felt. "Don't listen to anything I say after you bet, just go through with it, and then that's it, no more after this one. Whatever happens, we're done."

Aloysius gave Merlin a discreet nod.

Merlin went back to being pleased and astonished at winning again, carefully not meeting the Lady's eye.

"Place your bets, gentlemen, for another round. The Lady plays sweet doubles! How far can beginners' luck really go? Perhaps this time we'll see."

Merlin plucked a modest handful of pennies from his winnings and piled them on the twelve square. "Easy does it," he said to the crowd in general. "I'm bound to start losing any time now!"

The Lady smiled an inscrutable smile.

"Well, I think you're my lucky charm, my friend," said Aloysius, and pushed all of his money onto the square alongside Merlin's. "Haven't seen luck like this in a long while."

"No, don't!" Merlin protested, so vehemently that Aloysius looked genuinely startled. "It can't last, please, it doesn't mean anything, I'm bound to lose and-"

"Too late, my friend," said the man opposite, who'd piled his coins on number seven. "The Lady called."

The Lady nodded, a hint of apology in her eyes and suddenly Merlin realised what was going on. This was what she'd been waiting for. She wasn't going to accuse him of cheating. She'd been building false confidence, trying to make him - and the others - trust in his luck. She judged the perfect moment, when she had the most to gain, and that's when she would snatch it all away and make her profit.

The dice rolled, and Merlin slowed time.

It made the Lady's smile seem bolder, her slowed expression more knowing as the dice tumbled along the board, one side on each pulling towards the table in an unnatural way, bound eventually to land on a four and a three.

Merlin pulled harder.

The dice jumped one last time and landed neatly as a pair of sixes.

The Lady's smile vanished.

*

"You don't have to stay in this stupid castle," Aloysius said, as they walked back to the book stall. "Come with me. We could make a _fortune_."

"Thanks, but no. I'm not interested in money." Merlin had left the tent feeling distinctly grubby and couldn't wait to get back to his chambers and into a hot bath. He really wasn't cut out to be a gambler.

"Don't you ever get suffocated,here? You have all this talent, why not use it?"

Suffocated? Suffocated wasn't the half of it. "I do use it. I've got things to do here."

"In a repressed kingdom run by a tyrant, living with an ancient apothecary and servant to a spoiled brat of a prince? I find that hard to believe, my friend."

"You'd be surprised."

Back at the stall Merlin was relieved to see Geoffrey _still_ poring over books and parchments, although to his dismay the pile of things to be carried back to the archives looked bigger and heavier than ever. Merlin was beginning to regret not bringing a cart.

"You could borrow a cart. We have one behind the wagon."

Merlin jumped, startled. He gave Aloysius a suspicious look. "Can you read minds?"

"A little. Yours is particularly easy, actually, you should watch out for that. Most of it's on your face, perfectly obvious for anyone who wants to look closely enough."

"Then why did you need me to win the money? You knew she was cheating, you could have just plucked the numbers out of her head every time."

"I can't read her," Aloysius admitted. "I've played her tables many times but I couldn't even be sure she was cheating, she's that good. But I knew I'd beat her one day."

"So that's why you needed me? To get some kind of revenge for losing?"

Aloysius clapped Merlin on the shoulder. "You're a very fast learner, my friend!"

"That's what I keep telling people," said Merlin.

They'd reached the shelves where the scrolls lay. Aloysius pulled the blue one with the black cap from the shelf and handed it to Merlin. "Thanks," he said. "You did me a big favour today."

"You won't need to go back any more now," Merlin said. "That's a lot of money."

"Yes," Aloysius said, but there was a glint in his eye that made Merlin's heart sink. This wasn't the end of it for Aloysius. Merlin had heard of gamblers in Camelot, people who lived for the thrill and the hope of winning and gave up their lives and families to the despair of losing in the process.

"You could do things with the money," Merlin said. "Good things."

But Aloysius just shook his head. "This is where we part ways, my friend. Help yourself to the cart."

With a friendly wave, Aloysius sauntered away, leaving Merlin with an armful of magic and a sinking feeling that all of this might have been a very bad mistake, and had not helped anyone at all.

The gold lettering on the topmost scroll glinted in the late afternoon sun.

_Except Leon_, he thought.

That would be more than enough.

*

Merlin fetched the cart, which was at the rear of the wagon just as Aloysius had promised, wrapped the scroll carefully in his neckerchief and covered it with his jacket for good measure before rolling the cart around to the front of the stall where Geoffrey was practically dwarfed by the mountain of books he'd chosen.

"Is it okay to borrow this?" Merlin asked Henry the bookseller. "Your assistant said he thought-"

"Yes, yes, of course," said Henry. "Now, Geoffrey, I have one last purchase you might be interested in. It's a slim volume, but of great interest to any military tactician. I'm sure Uther might find it useful."

"Uther rarely consults _books_ on matters of military strategy," Geoffrey replied. "He trusts only his instincts and experience." There was a slight lift to Geoffrey's eyebrows that hinted his disapproval at Uther's attitude. Merlin rather enjoyed that; it wasn't often Geoffrey was ever anything other than strictly proper.

"But this is the counsel of Vegetius himself! Most renowned of Roman military minds."

The book was small, compared with the rest of Geoffrey's pile, in a plain but sturdy leather binding with a little silvered clasp. Henry offered it for Geoffrey's scrutiny, but Geoffrey shook his head and waved it away. "I'm sure he has something similar already. It collects dust, for the most part. I'll leave this one for someone with a more open mind."

"May I have a look?" said Merlin.

Geoffrey looked astonished, but Henry passed it to Merlin without comment. Merlin flipped through the pages; the words were neatly drawn in deep brown ink and there were illustrations in vivid blues and reds. It looked beautiful, despite the fact that phrases like 'enemy', 'discipline' and 'attack' were sprinkled evenly through the text.

Merlin kept hold of the book until Geoffrey was thoroughly absorbed in another pile of treasures, and then he quietly said to Henry, "How much do you want for this?"

Henry smiled kindly. "I'm afraid even to a member of the royal household I'd still have to ask for three hundred silver."

Merlin's winnings from the gambling table were a hefty weight in his pocket.

"Alright. Could you wrap it?"

Henry looked as if he were about to laugh, until Merlin dragged the fat pouch full of coins from his pocket. "This should be enough," he said, and poured the money into Henry's quickly-outstretched hand.

"But you-"

"I've been saving up," Merlin said, firmly. "For a really long time."

"But-"

"Is there a problem?" asked Merlin. "I don't mind buying something somewhere else if there is."

Henry shoved the coins into the pocket of his big leather apron and shook his head firmly. "No, sir, not at all. Wrapped, you said?"

"Yes please," said Merlin. "It's a present."

An hour later, when Merlin was finally dragging Geoffrey's cartful of books back to the castle, he saw Leon again, sitting on the steps with a group of knights. He was smiling and joking with them, just like the old days, except that when he laughed it turned to coughing, and he coughed hard and painfully and couldn't stop, tears streaming down his face. Merlin could hear the concerned murmurs of his friends, watched as someone produced a water skin for him to drink from.

Merlin's fingers tightened on the handles of the cart, and he strode so quickly cross the courtyard that it was all Geoffrey could to to keep up.

*


	3. Chapter 3

The Great Hall was ready for feasting, endless tables lining the walls, groaning under the weight of platters piled high. Piled so high, in fact, that Merlin was having trouble finding somewhere to put the basket of bread he'd been sent up from the kitchen with.

"You could move the cheese over to the left a bit," suggested Gwen.

"What about the ham?"

"The ham shouldn't be there, it should be up here between the cheese and the fruit."

"Why?"

Gwen blinked at him. "It just… should. We always put it in the same pattern: meat, then fruit, then cheese, then bread, then the wine every second plate. That way everyone can reach everything, wherever they're sitting. Or standing."

"Really?" Merlin stared at the table and noticed that it was just as Gwen had described - apart from a few rogue items, and those were the ones he'd put down.

"You only just noticed?" Gwen sounded astonished, but she was giving Merlin one of those lopsided smiles that he couldn't help but return.

Merlin shrugged. "I just put it wherever. I never thought about it, really."

"And none of the other servants said anything to you about it, in all the time you've been working here?"

"Well, no… except… _oh_."

"Yes?"

"They talked about the food order. I thought they meant whatever Uther had asked for. You know, this does make a lot more sense."

"Better late than never," Gwen said, giving Merlin a little pat on the shoulder.

Merlin sheepishly put his basket of bread down where Gwen had suggested, and passed her the ham.

"Well, I suppose I should go and get his highness's bath ready," Merlin said. "He'll be back from hunting soon."

"I'm surprised he didn't take you with him."

"Someone has to heat his bathwater," said Merlin cheerfully. "Besides, it's a Knight thing, today. I think they're celebrating their manliness or something."

"Yes," said Gwen, wrinkling her nose. "I can see how you wouldn't want anything to do with that."

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"No! I didn't mean…. Not that you aren't manly! It's just… you wouldn't want to kill things. I mean, I'm sure you could if you wanted to, just that… well, you're not interested."

"No," said Merlin, thoughts of Morgana and Leon flitting unbidden into his mind. "I'm not."

*

Arthur was clean and dry and dressed in new breeches, a particularly fine brocade shirt and a deep red jacket of suede as soft as butter. He fiddled with his cuffs while Merlin gave his shoulders a final brush, and deemed his Prince ready for the feast.

"You can have the morning off tomorrow, Merlin," Arthur said. "I will be sleeping in."

"Planning on getting drunk, then?"

"Moderately, yes. It _is_ my birthday after all."

"And that's different from any other feast….?"

"Not at all, I hope. It's what feasts are _for_, Merlin. If you weren't such a lightweight-"

"Some of us have to work, you know. You wouldn't want me spilling the soup in your lap, would you?"

"Like you did last Wednesday, you mean?"

"That was an accident. And it was a tiny drop."

It was practically a bowlful! You really are the most rubbish servant."

"Teaspoon full at the most," Merlin muttered under his breath.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing." Merlin gave Arthur's collar a final tweak. "There. All ready."

Merlin stepped back to take a proper look at Arthur in his birthday finery, and allowed himself a moment of pride. Arthur looked amazingly handsome: his clothes were perfect and his hair shone golden in the candlelight, still damp and a little fluffy from the bath.

Merlin realised he was grinning, and for once Arthur smiled back, just briefly before he nodded and turned towards the door.

"Just a minute!" Merlin fumbled in his pocket, long fingers finally closing around the small package there. "Before you go…"

"Yes, Merlin?"

"I've got something for you," Merlin blurted out, dragging the package from his pocket with some difficulty before depositing it in Arthur's hand. "It's not much. I mean, it's, not like, but I…. um, happy birthday, Arthur."

Arthur looked down at the gift in astonishment. "Merlin, you're my servant. You don't have to-"

"I know, it's not, I just… look it's no big deal, okay?"

Arthur tugged the string undone, and let the paper fall away to reveal the book inside. He darted a look at Merlin; his eyes were soft and surprised. "This-"

"The pedlar I bought it from said it might be useful for you and the knights or something," Merlin babbled. "I don't know, if it's no good or you've already got it you could-"

"It's brilliant," Arthur said, smiling broadly. "Do you know who Vegetius was?"

"Some bloke who won battles?"

"He was one of the greatest military minds of the Roman army. This is one of his training manuals. They're very rare. It is… it's splendid, Merlin. But it must have cost a fortune, how on earth did you afford it?"

"I did some favours, and, d'you know, I don't think he knew how much it was worth, and…. it's all right. Really. It's nothing. I wanted you to have it."

Merlin's voice tailed off as caught Arthur's eye. They looked at each other for what felt like a very long time - too long, probably - until Arthur looked away, fighting his usual battle with his emotions, while Merlin felt stupidly shy and happy and pleased with himself.

Arthur clasped Merlin on the shoulder, and said, "Thank you, Merlin. You're a good friend."

Merlin shrugged, still grinning, and looked at the floor. "Go on," he muttered. "You don't want to be late for the feast."

Arthur patted Merlin's shoulder and went on his way. Merlin couldn't help notice that he had slipped the book into his jacket pocket, and that made Merlin so pleased it was ridiculous.

Merlin locked Arthur's quarters carefully after them, and followed his Prince down to the feast.

*

It was a strange evening, all in all. The appearance of festivity was there: food, wine, music, Lady Tamsin having a fainting fit after consuming one too many truffles. But the decorations couldn't cover the scorch marks that marred the far wall of the Great Hall; the fire in the hearth couldn't quite block the draught from the crack in the south window. There were so many people missing. Servants, knights, courtiers, all killed or injured by the dragon and, as if that wasn't enough, Morgana's chair stood painfully empty at her guardian's side. Uther ate little and drank constantly. Arthur spent most of the evening surrounded by his knights, and while they were jovial enough, it was a far cry from the bright, glittering feast-days Merlin remembered from when he first came to Camelot.

Leon arrived late; pale and with the harsh, persistent cough that cut through Merlin like a knife and made the knot in his stomach clench. When Leon sat in his place at Arthur's side, Merlin was quick to fill his goblet with warm spiced wine. Leon smiled gratefully and thanked him, draining it in one go before holding it out for a refill.

Merlin usually enjoyed a party as much as any young man in Camelot, even if he was only there as a servant, but this time he was glad when midnight arrived and the servants were dismissed. He declined invitations to continue the party downstairs, said his goodnights quickly and hurried back to his room.

"You're early," Gaius said, looking up from the enormous ledger where he was, as usual, recording the results from the day's experiments.

"Arthur said he wouldn't need me 'til tomorrow."

"Ah. Carousing with the knights?"

"Yeah. I suppose."

Gaius took off his spectacles, folded them neatly and rested them on his book. "Is everything alright, Merlin?"

"I don't know. It's all changed. I miss how it used to be, sometimes."

"Morgana?"

"Yeah, but not just that. It's everything."

"You can't change the past, Merlin. Don't ever forget, whatever else happened, you saved Camelot. You saved us all."

"No, that's just it. Not all of us. Not _everyone_, Gaius." Merlin's throat choked up; he slumped onto a stool by Gaius's desk and rubbed at the ache in his temples. Too many late nights and early mornings.

Gaius squeezed his hand. "You did your best."

"I know," said Merlin in a small voice.

"Would you like some warm milk? I was about to make some for myself."

"Yes, please."

Merlin watched Gaius as he set a small pan of milk on the stove and added one of the little bundle of herbs and spices he kept handy.

"The people who were injured by dragon breath," Merlin said. " Like Leon. I think I might be able to help them."

Gaius turned from the stove, concerned. "How? Dragons are magical creatures, Merlin, the damage they do can't be healed by normal medicine, unless it's broken bones. Flame damage simply refuses to respond to any known cure."

"But they can be cured by magic."

"Theoretically, yes. But even if the risk of practising magic in Camelot wasn't so great, there's no spell I know of that's powerful enough to work."

Merlin hesitated for a moment, chewing on his lower lip, then said, "I might have found a way."

"How?" asked Gaius. His voice was laden with potential disapproval, confirming Merlin's fear and every reason he'd had for hiding the scroll under his bed and keeping quiet about his adventures at the book stall. He took a deep breath.

"I found something at the bookseller's the other day. It talks about a cure."

"A magical cure?"

Merlin nodded. "There's parts of it I don't understand, but I think it's a recipe for a potion."

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

"It's magic. I didn't think you'd approve."

"Merlin, for goodness' sake. When did it make any difference to you whether I approved of anything?"

For a second Merlin thought he might be angry, but then he caught the twinkle in Gaius's eye and suddenly things felt so much better.

"I'll go and get the scroll," he said, and rushed off to his room.

*

"The thing I don't understand," Merlin said, "is this section here. I don't even recognise the language."

Gaius traced the words with his index finger. "Hmm. I think it might be some kind of code. Pass me that book on the top shelf by the powdered sheep droppings, would you?"

Merlin wondered when he'd got used to living with jars that contained the sort of things his mother spent a good deal of time keeping _out_ of the house, and fetched Gaius the book. Gaius flipped quickly to the page he wanted and smoothed down the spine so he could sit it and the scroll side by side on the desk.

"Let me see," Gaius said, tracing the words with his index finger, first on the scroll and then in the book. "Yes, that's it. It's quite simple when you have the key."

Merlin was fascinated to know what the code was and how Gaius could break it so easily, but that would have to wait. "What do I have to do?" he asked, urgently.

"It describes the making of a potion from the this list of things here. It says 'the ingredients above must be combined with the outpourings of the Fiadhaich tree."

"Outpourings? What do trees pour out?"

"I'm not exactly sure."

"And what's a Fiadhaich?"

"It's a species of wild Rowan, I believe. I did hear a rumour of one growing in the ruins of the old fort at Neath, but apart from that…."

"Alright, we have a rumour of a tree that might pour out something or other. Where's Neath, anyway?"

"It's about two or three days' ride to the North."

"Great. What else does it say?"

"When you get the outpourings… ah, sap! Of course, it means sap!"

"That makes more sense."

"Yes, I'm sorry, the words are quite old, even for me. It's not easy to translate." Gaius's lips moved silently as he worked through the next passage. "I see," he said eventually. "You take the sap and combine it with some crushed bark from the main trunk of the tree - it has to be from the trunk, not any subsidiary branches - and grind it to a paste with the rest of the ingredients. Nothing spectacular: sticky-backed toad, chamomile, toenail of stoat, the usual… oh, and lavender water! Well, that's different."

Gaius looked shocked. "What's wrong with lavender water?"

"Nothing, nothing," Gaius said, sparing the scroll a disapproving stare. "It's just unusual, that's all."

Merlin would have loved to know what was so unusual about it, but he knew all too well that probing too hard into Gaius's opinions and thought processes could take a very long time. "What next?" he asked.

"Ah, then you bring it to life with this spell here." Gaius tapped the scroll, and Merlin peered over his shoulder.

"I understand the spell," Merlin said, softly. It was written in the dragon tongue, the language he'd used to tame Kilgara. "What about this bit?" He pointed to a passage underneath the spell, again in code.

"'The dragon's curse can only be lifted by a Dragonlord.' Well, that's handy."

"I suppose. What do I have to do?"

"From what I can see you don't have to _do_ anything. It simply has to be you who makes the potion and gives it to the victims."

"Oh. That sounds simple, then."

"I wouldn't be so sure. You've got to find the tree first. The Neath isn't easy to get to."

"Let me guess. Bandits, monsters, foreign armies?"

"Well… yes, essentially."

"Nothing I can't blast out of existence, then. It'll be fine."

"Merlin, you must be careful! You can't always rely on magic to save your skin."

"Tell me about it," said Merlin, and went to pack a bag.

*

"I thought I told you not to bother me before lunch?" Arthur squinted painfully at the daylight Merlin had just let into his room.

"Lunchtime was an hour ago. Are you hungry?"

Arthur considered this for a moment. "Yes."

"Good. There's a tray of food over here. Are you getting up or do you want it in bed?"

"Here. No, wait, I should get up. But I-"

Merlin shoved the tray under Arthur's nose. "I'll get your bath ready."

"Don't make it too hot. Or too cold."

Merlin rolled his eyes and went to fetch the tub.

Arthur slowly came to terms with the day he'd woken into. By the time he was in the bath he could keep both eyes open in the daylight and had acquired a pink glow to his cheeks that made him look a good deal healthier. Merlin dutifully scrubbed Arthur's back and shoulders, washed his hair (he always missed bits if he did it himself) and listened to him complain about ridiculous things, such as the way his eyes stung when Merlin got soap in them, or how Merlin had splashed water on the drying cloth, or how Merlin had no idea what the words 'relaxing soak' meant.

Merlin ignored him and hummed softly to himself as he rinsed the suds from Arthur's hair. Then he started to clear up Arthur's room while Arthur splashed about, washing the parts of himself Merlin rarely dared to think about, never mind touch with a bar of soap.

"I was wondering," Merlin said, shoving Arthur's discarded party clothes into the laundry basket. "Will you need me much over the next few days?"

"It depends what you mean by 'need', Merlin. If you mean will my life grind to a halt without you, then no. If you mean will I need someone to bring me food and keep things clean, then yes."

"Oh, good. You could get someone else to do those things for you, then."

"Could I now?" Arthur stood up, naked and glorious, water pouring from his golden skin.

"I should think," Merlin said, keeping his eyes determinedly fixed on Arthur's left nipple. (Anywhere else would be rude and looking Arthur in the eyes carried the risk of giving any one of a million things away that Merlin wanted to keep secret at that moment.)

"You could be right. Who knows, I might actually get my needs attended to for once."

Merlin's gaze slipped south for just a second; it was too tempting to consider exactly what needs a naked Arthur might have, and Merlin, to his utmost shame and confusion, could imagine being extremely enthusiastic about meeting those needs.

"The drying-cloth, Merlin?" Arthur said. "Is that too much to interrupt your daydreams for?"

"What? No! No, of course not!" Merlin plucked the drying cloth Arthur had left by the fire and held it out. "Here."

Arthur snatched the cloth from him, and twitched it around his waist. He stepped out of the bath, shaking his head, spraying water droplets like a dog fresh out of the river.

"Hey!" Merlin wiped a splash from his cheek.

Arthur grinned at him. Merlin couldn't help but grin back. Arthur being playful was a glorious combination of irritating and amusing that Merlin rather liked.

"So you want some time off?" Arthur asked.

"If that's alright," Merlin said. "Gaius needs some ingredients for a new potion he's working on and he can't find them in Camelot."

"When do you want to go?"

"I was thinking of leaving tonight. It shouldn't take more than a few days."

"And where are you going?"

"Somewhere to the North, I'm not quite sure…"

"You're going alone?"

"It's perfectly safe, I mean, Gaius wouldn't send me if it wasn't."

Arthur considered this for a moment, then said, "Well, I suppose if it's for Gaius. If you must. You can leave after dinner tonight, and make sure you're back within the week."

"Thank you sire," Merlin said. "Do you want me to find a replacement?"

"No, that's okay. I'll deal with it. Who knows, I might get someone decent for a few days." Arthur clasped Merlin's shoulder. "Try not to get into trouble, alright? You may be useless, but I've grown used to you over the past couple of years. God help me."

"Yes Sire," said Merlin, grinning, and began to help Arthur dress.

*

The rest of the afternoon disappeared in a flash for Merlin. He raced through his chores and planned his trip at the same time. Polishing Arthur's boots while scrutinising a map which turned out to have been labelled upside down was quite an accomplishment.

Arthur ate dinner with his father, and Merlin and Uther's servant, Hector, were dismissed as soon as they'd served dinner. Merlin would gladly have rushed straight to the stables, had Arthur not infuriatingly told him to call by Arthur's chambers in an hour. That hour crawled slowly as Merlin paced Gaius's workroom biting on his thumbnail and asking Gaius a lot of questions about rowan trees and dragons' breath that Gaius was completely unable to answer.

Finally the hour was up. Merlin took the stairs two at a time all the way up to Arthur's floor, and jogged down the corridor. He pushed the door open.

Arthur was sitting by the fire, which painted his hair rich reds and golds and cast shadows across his face that highlighted his features and perfect bone structure.

Playing at Arthur's feet was a small animal, a sausage of white fur with brown feet and tail-tip. It was sniffing around Arthur's boots, whiskers twitching.

"It's a ferret," said Arthur.

"So it would appear, Sire," said Merlin, somewhat out of breath.

"Isn't it magnificent?"

Merlin's first impression of the creature was that it was rather fluffy and cute, but as those were attributes he doubted Arthur would be interested in he simply said, "Um, yes."

The ferret sniffed its way up the leg of the chair, to Arthur's fingertips and then Arthur's sleeve, and only Arthur's exceptional reflexes caught it before it got inside his shirt. "She's so fast!" Arthur exclaimed. "And you should see her tiny teeth, so sharp!"

"Great! I wonder how long it'll be before it sinks them into me?"

"She's got better things to eat than you, Merlin. Here, take a look. She won't hurt you."

"That's what you said about Magnus," Merlin said, dubiously.

"Magnus is a guard dog. He thought you were snooping around, it was perfectly normal behaviour for him."

"I wasn't snooping! I was cleaning your room!"

"Yes, well, how was he to know? Introductions are very important. Here. Meet Ferox."

Arthur held out the ferret, and really Merlin had no choice but to take it. To his surprise the creature was every bit as soft as it looked and rather than sinking its sharp little teeth into Merlin it sniffed at his hand, then his shirt, looked him over with its bright, beady eyes, and ran up his arm to wrap itself neatly around his shoulders. Merlin chuckled in delight.

"See, she likes you!" said Arthur.

"She's very soft," Merlin said, and ignored the way Arthur wrinkled his nose in response. "Where did she come from?"

"Leon gave her to me for my birthday. Don't get too carried away, she's a hunting animal."

"What do they hunt?" Merlin began absent-mindedly to tickle the ferret gently on the chest.

"Tunnelling animals. Like rabbits."

Merlin smiled at the ferret, which was making happy, throaty noises, almost as if she were laughing. "Would you like some rabbit from the kitchens, little ferret? They made rabbit pie today and I know where the scraps went."

"You mustn't spoil her, Merlin."

"There's a difference between spoiling her and feeding her," Merlin said.

Arthur sighed. "There's no middle ground with you, is there? Either an animal's a savage beast to you or else it's a pet. Ferox is a working animal."

"Yes, Arthur," Merlin said, as Ferox butted his chin gently with her nose. "But I presume you're not going to take her hunting in the dark?"

"Shut up, Merlin."

"Yes, Sire. Although…" Merlin spotted something poking out from under the rug.

"What?"

"I think she's been hunting already." Merlin tugged out the object and held it up to the firelight. "Isn't this the key to the armoury?"

Arthur squinted at it. "I think it is. You must have dropped it."

"Hey!" Merlin was about to protest his innocence in no uncertain terms, when his eye was drawn down to the ferret, who was looking at him with a particularly endearing expression in her little black eyes. "Hm. Maybe I did. When I was dusting."

"You dusted?"

"I started," said Merlin, putting the key on the arm of Arthur's chair, safely out of Ferox's reach. "I think I got distracted. Something must have happened."

Arthur sighed. "Doesn't it always?"

"Quite often," Merlin admitted. "Things do get a bit busy."

They exchanged a look; Arthur's eyes narrowed, in that way they did when he wasn't quite sure whether Merlin was being cheeky on purpose or by accident. Merlin kept his own expression as innocent as possible.

"Anyway," said Arthur. "I'm glad you called by. I've been thinking about this trip of yours."

Merlin's heart sank: surely Arthur hadn't changed his mind about giving Merlin time off?

"I think I'll come with you."

"What? Why would you do that?"

"Really, Merlin, I thought you might be pleased. It's a dangerous path for someone to travel alone. Especially someone like..." Arthur waved his hand vaguely in Merlin's direction. "You."

"Oh, thanks a lot! I can look after myself, you know."

"To an extent, maybe." Arthur regarded him for a moment. "A very limited extent. But that's beside the point. I have my own reasons for going as well."

"Really?"

"Yes. It's good hunting country and I need to get Ferox trained as soon as possible."

"Oh, great. So we'll be stopping every half an hour so you can kill something and then expect me to clean it and dress it and lug it around the countryside for four days?"

Arthur looked mildly offended. "Skipping over the fact that you're my servant and you're _supposed_ to do as I say, I rather thought you might appreciate me coming along. A lot of people would be delighted to go hunting with me. Only the other day, Rupert Greslet-"

"The falconer?"

"Yes, Merlin, the _Royal_ falconer."

"He wanted to go hunting with you?"

"Yes, he did. He stopped by just this morning and-"

"You can come with me."

"What?"

"You can come with me, to Neath."

"Well, that's very gracious of you," said Arthur with a tight smile. "Allowing your prince to come along on your errands with you."

"Sorry," Merlin muttered.

"I should hope so too."

"I didn't want you to put you out or anything."

"Merlin-"

"So, we'd best get going! Shall I pack your things?"

"You know, Merlin, you really are a mystery. If you changed your mind any quicker you'd meet yourself coming the other way."

"Yes Sire. I'll just get your socks."

Half an hour later Merlin and Arthur rode out of Camelot together.

*


	4. Chapter 4

"I have to ask, Merlin, whether you had any particular reason for setting out in the middle of the night."

"So you wouldn't miss me?" Merlin shifted the reins to his left hand so that he could scratch behind his ear with his right. They were following the path by the river, broad and well-defined but plagued by small insects that seemed to think Merlin was particularly tasty.

He could just make out in the fast-fading light that Arthur was giving him a dubious look.

"Alright," Merlin said. "It's a full moon, so it's not really dark; it's late spring so the nights are short, and this way we'll be able to cross the whole of the Cantref Forest in daylight, without having to stop."

"That actually makes sense. Quite impressive. Someone might even accuse you of strategy."

"I'm sure I wouldn't go that far," said Merlin drily.

"Were you planning to sleep at all?"

"Of course. When we get to the other side of the forest."

"Excellent."

"Although we can stop for a little while now if you're tired."

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin, you're the one who fell asleep standing up in the council chamber last week."

"Army supply lists are very boring. And I'd been up all night polishing your armour."

Arthur laughed; an answering smile twitched at the corner of Merlin's mouth.

"All the same," Arthur said. "I always manage to keep awake. So should you. An army is worse than useless if it's not properly equipped."

"You _seem_ to be awake. That doesn't mean you're listening."

"Of course I was listening. I could tell you exactly how much salted pork we have stored in case of attack. It's very important. 'Famine makes greater havoc in an army than the enemy, and is more terrible than the sword.'"

"I suppose that does make sense," Merlin conceded.

"It's a quote, actually. From that book you gave me."

Merlin allowed himself a little squirm of pleasure.

"He had some fascinating ideas, Vegetius. Did you know he wrote about using trained elephants in battle?"

"Elephants?"

"Yes, and camels. Most resourceful."

_What's an elephant?_ was on the tip of Merlin's tongue, but he hated that Arthur might think him ignorant so instead he said, "not many of those around here, though," and was relieved when Arthur laughed and agreed with him.

They rode in silence for a while after that; the path narrowed as they got further from Camelot and the likelihood of attack grew. Merlin kept his eyes and ears open and he could all but feel Arthur's alert attention. Their horses settled into an even, steady walk, side by side, and if they minded the near-dark they showed no sign of it.

Arthur touched Merlin's horse's neck, and they came to a halt. Arthur put his forefinger to his lips, his head tipped to one side.

"What is it?" Merlin whispered.

"Shh," Arthur whispered back. "I'm trying to listen."

Merlin could hear nothing himself other than the babbling of the river and his own heartbeat. He had excellent hearing, too. But it wouldn't be the first time Arthur had picked up something Merlin had missed. He could pick up the sound of a rabbit or a deer in the same way Merlin picked up the echo of a spell or enchanted item. It was uncanny.

Arthur leaned in close to whisper very quietly. His lips brushed Merlin's ear, soft and damp and suddenly Merlin was having to concentrate very, very hard on Arthur's words, rather than how it felt.

"I think someone's following us. Keep your eyes open."

Merlin nodded.

"But don't look like you're keeping your eyes open."

Merlin could have pointed out that it would be pretty tough for anyone to tell what his eyes were doing seeing as it was all but dark, but he thought better of it. They rode in silence for a few minutes, until Arthur said, "Great night for a ride!"

Merlin wondered if Arthur had gone mad. It wouldn't be the first time. Then he recognised the frantic, darting looks Arthur was sending him. This was Arthur attempting to act normal for the benefit of their possible stalkers. Merlin sighed.

"Yes, Sire," he said, a little too loudly.

"We should have brought a bird of prey. You've never been on a night-hunt, have you?"

"Um, no, Sire."

Merlin knew he wasn't being very helpful, but it was hard to talk just because someone wanted you to. He knew that anything more complicated that he let out of his mouth would be ridiculous and give them away entirely. So he concentrated on listening instead, evaluating every hoof-fall, every rustle of the bushes.

He concluded only that things were a lot noisier at night than a person might expect.

Arthur raised his hand; they came to a halt.

And then the boar charged.

*

It was all over quickly, for which Merlin was very grateful. Arthur came off his horse as they fled from the animal's path and that gave Merlin the instant he needed to open up the ground beneath its feet into a deep pit and drop a branch on it for good measure. Arthur rolled to his feet, grabbed his sword and raced over to finish it off.

Then Merlin laughed, and for some reason he couldn't stop. It was only when Arthur waved his sword at him that he managed to gasp, "We were being all stealthy and secretive for a _boar_!"

"_I_ was being stealthy." Arthur wiped his sword off on a patch of moss. "You were being a complete idiot as usual. If it hadn't fallen in that hole..."

"You'd have killed it anyway," Merlin said.

"It's good to know you have faith in me at last, Merlin."

"Oh, you're very good at killing things." Merlin checked Arthur's saddle and petted his horse. "Everyone knows that."

"Well, yes," Arthur said. "Obviously." And then, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Merlin," Arthur said in his warning tone.

"Killing isn't always the best way."

"You're not going to tell me I shouldn't have killed that boar? Because seriously, Merlin, if you-"

"No, no, the boar had it coming. I meant more generally."

Arthur sighed. He took his reins from Merlin and swung effortlessly back up onto his horse. "Sometimes I could almost think you're quite clever, Merlin. And then you stop making sense altogether."

"Yes, Sire," Merlin muttered irritably, and dragged himself onto his own horse to follow Arthur back to the river path.

  
*

"What if it doesn't want to go down the hole?"

"Of course it wants to go down the hole. It's a ferret. That's what ferrets _do_, Merlin."

Merlin looked at the creature sniffing around his feet, nibbling the buckles on his boots. "Are you absolutely sure about that, Arthur?"

"How else do you think they feed themselves?"

"Berries?"

"You have _seen_ her teeth, haven't you, Merlin?"

"Alright then… mice."

"Not everyone likes to eat rodents, Merlin. That's your speciality."

"You're never going to let that go, are you?"

Arthur grinned. "Come on. Bring her here. I'll show you."

Merlin picked up the ferret, who nestled happily into the crook of his arm, and took her to the grassy bank where Arthur waited. There were rabbit holes, covered in nets, and suddenly Ferox was alert and interested, nose twitching as she wriggled in Merlin's arms. Merlin delivered her to Arthur, who held her with the workaday detachment with which he usually regarded animals when he thought other people were looking, and paced softly to the one open rabbit hole, where he set Ferox on the ground.

He gestured to Merlin to wait. Merlin crouched down and waited to see what would happen.

What did happen, at least at first, was very little. Ferox obediently ran down the hole and that was that. Merlin wondered how big the warren might be, and if she might be lost, or have found somewhere quiet and gone to sleep. But then there was a rumbling noise and a squeal, and suddenly a rabbit shot out of one of holes only to be trapped in Arthur's net, followed fast by Ferox. Arthur snagged the net, trapping the rabbit which he swiftly despatched.

Ferox circled Arthur and the rabbit making excited noises and pawing at his ankles. They both seemed very pleased with themselves.

Arthur tossed the rabbit to Merlin. "Gut that, will you?"

Merlin fumbled the catch, juggled with the dead rabbit for a few moments before he regained his balance.

"And don't forget to empty its bladder first," Arthur said.

"Great," Merlin muttered under his breath. "Give me the worst jobs why don't you. Why we can't buy rabbit in the market like other people…."

"What did you say, Merlin?"

"Nothing, Sire," said Merlin, and got to work.

*

Merlin had to admit a hot meal was welcome, and the rabbit was tasty. Ferox didn't seem to mind sharing the fruits of her labours, and once her belly was full she curled up happily in her cage and was soon heard to be snoring softly.

"What I don't understand," Merlin said, licking meat juice off his fingers, "is why you train animals to hunt when you could do it just as well yourself. You kill rabbits all the time with your crossbow. Why get Ferox involved?"

"We can learn a lot from animals. They hunt to survive. They're designed for it. Their bodies are the right shape; their minds work the right way. They're focused, sharp, intent. Men get distracted. They've got half their mind on their prey, the other half worrying about whether they look good in their new hunting jacket, or whether their servant has bothered to check the buckle of their scabbard for wear."

"It was only once," Merlin grumbled.

"Men can be clumsy brutes compared to a natural hunter like a ferret or a hawk. You'd do well to watch them, Merlin. You could learn a few things as well."

They both found their eyes drawn to Ferox. She chose that precise moment to roll over onto her back and let out a contented burp, followed by a squeaky noise that sounded anything but menacing. Merlin reached through the bars of her little cage and stroked her behind the ears. She nuzzled his hand, sighed, and fell instantly and happily asleep again.

"Yeah," said Merlin. "Natural killer."

"Shut up, Merlin," said Arthur.

*

By the time they'd cleared the forest it was getting dark again, and they hadn't slept for well over thirty six hours. Merlin couldn't stop yawning, and whenever he yawned, Arthur yawned. So it was with some relief that Merlin spotted the town of Cinross beyond the last clump of trees, before the road became wide and well-worn, turning in just a few yards from a neglected woodland path to a major thoroughfare. This was the start of the road to Riverthorn, a large market town just south of Neath. Merlin felt a little rush of excitement despite his exhaustion: they were more than half way there.

There was an inn just off the road, with stables and a sign promising food and beds 'fit for knights and noble gentlemen'. Merlin suspected they weren't expecting the Prince of Camelot to test their services, but it was more promising than some of the inns they'd encountered in the past. The front room was noisy and full, reeking of ale and hazy woodsmoke from the large fire at the end of the room.

"Get us a room, Merlin," Arthur said. "See to it that the horses are fed and watered. Oh, and order some food, I'm starving."

"Yes, Sire," said Merlin.

He was on his way to the stables, contemplating how much less work it would have been if Arthur hadn't tagged along, and at the same time how boring, when he got a strange sense that someone was looking at him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he paused, glanced over his shoulder. There was no-one there - or, rather, there were lots of people there, the street was bustling, but no-one seemed to be paying the slightest attention to Merlin.

Merlin frowned, wound the reins of his and Arthur's horses more firmly around his fingers, and strode a little more purposefully towards the stables.

*

After a supper of thick stew which tasted a lot better than Merlin had expected, Arthur lay on the (only) bed reading while Merlin fed Ferox titbits. Arthur had put her in her little harness attached to a rein that he tied to one of the legs of the bed, which gave her a measure of independence to explore the room at her own pace. Mostly she seemed interested in rifling through the contents of Arthur's bag, chewing on Merlin's boots or taking treats from Merlin's fingers. Merlin took the opportunity to find out if ferrets could be taught tricks, and was delighted to find that Ferox was a very fast learner. In no time he had her asking for food with a little chirruping noise, rolling over and sitting on command.

"Don't spoil her," said Arthur. "Remember she's a-"

"Ferocious hunter, yes, I know," and then to the ferret he chirped in a sing-song voice, "who's a fierce hunter then? Is it you? Is it? I think it is, there's a good girl," and fed her a bit of leftover chicken.

Arthur made a disgusted sort of face and put his book down. "Put her back in her cage before you mollycoddle her to death, Merlin. It's time to get some sleep. We've got a long day's ride tomorrow."

Merlin pottered around for a few minutes, tidying up their things and settling Ferox back into her cage. "Settle down, there's a good girl," he crooned at her, while she circled around trying to find the best spot to lie down and squeaked at him. He couldn't help noticing that she'd tucked a few treasures away under a scrap of blanket in the corner of her cage: shiny silver coins and one of Arthur's cloak pins. "Goodnight, fluffykins," he whispered, with a conspiratorial wink.

"Merlin."

"Yes, Sire?"

"Tell me you did _not_ just call that ferret…"

Merlin treated Arthur to his most innocent, clueless expression.

"Oh, never mind," Arthur said.

Merlin took his blanket out of his pack and replaced it with his jacket to give the pack a bit of bulk and make it a workable makeshift pillow. He lay it on the floor next to the bed and spread out the blanket. He was fond of his travelling blanket: it had shared many adventures with him and was big enough for him to wrap himself entirely up in, safe from draughts.

"Is there anything else, Sire?" Merlin said. Arthur was watching him from the comfort of the big and only bed.

"No. No, I don't think so."

"Goodnight then, Arthur." Merlin snuffed out the candle, and lay down, tugging his blanket up to his chin. There was only a small fire in the fireplace, almost burnt down, but it was enough to make the room feel warm and Merlin, exhausted as he was, was soon drowsy.

Just as he was dropping off to sleep, Arthur said, "Merlin?"

"Yes, Sire?"

"Are you alright down there?"

"Of course. I'm used to sleeping on the floor, remember?"

"Yes, but…"

"I'm fine."

There was another long pause, long enough for Merlin's eyelids to slide shut and his breath settle towards a sleeping rhythm, and then Arthur said, "You could sleep here, if you want. There's plenty of room."

Merlin's eyes shot open, his heart racing. "What?"

"It's a big bed, there's room, and anyway you look very untidy down there."

"Untidy?"

"Just get into bed, Merlin."

Merlin hesitated. There was no denying the appeal of a soft bed. It was very generous of Arthur to offer and he had, if he was honest with himself, often imagined what it might be like to share a bed with Arthur, although not in a way of which Arthur would approve. But this was… it was too risky. Too close to fantasies Merlin found impossible and confusing, for all that they kept invading his thoughts at the most inconvenient moments.

Arthur yawned loudly. "For goodness' sake, Merlin, hurry up. I want to go to sleep."

A dozen rational objections died on Merlin's lips, and he got into Arthur's bed.

He lay there, on his back, as far from Arthur as he could get, right up at the edge of the bed. Arthur sprawled on his stomach, one arm slung around his pillow. Merlin licked dry lips and took in a few facts. He could feel Arthur's body heat radiating from him. Arthur was shirtless, bare-chested.

Arthur was watching him.

They looked at each other for what felt to Merlin like an uncomfortably long time. He wasn't sure whether he was waiting for Arthur to say something, or whether Arthur was waiting for him; and if Arthur was waiting for him they were doomed because Merlin could think of absolutely nothing he dare say at all.

Finally it was Arthur who broke the silence, when he said, "Merlin, sometimes…."

"Yes, Sire?" Merlin said, the words coming out as a sort of husky squeak.

"If you ever…."

"Yes?"

"I'm always here, if there's anything you need."

Merlin tried to manage a sense of unreasonable disappointment alongside relief. "Thank you, Arthur," he said. "You too."

"Well, obviously," Arthur said. "It's your job."

Merlin half-whispered, "More than that, though," and mostly hoped Arthur hadn't heard him. He didn't answer, which was probably a good sign. He just turned over, his broad, golden back just inches from Merlin's fingertips, and grunted.

"G'night, Merlin."

Merlin's fingers twitched. He swallowed, hard.

"Good night, Arthur," he whispered.

*

The next morning they were up at dawn. Arthur stirred when the carts with fresh barrels of ale arrived, clattering their cargo into the inn's cellars outside their window. Merlin had been awake since the very first lightening of the sky, trying to make sense of himself. Merlin was very straightforward in many ways. He'd grown up in a village where children learned the facts of life from watching animals breed and listening to coarse stories told by drunken menfolk on festival days. He knew what went where and how. He was quite keen to try it out one day. Camelot was full of beautiful women and they had a definite…. effect on him. Freya had….

…. Merlin shut his eyes tight, before the tears had even formed.

He liked girls. So why was he lying awake next to an especially manly sort of man, who was kind of an ass and kind of a friend and would one day be his _king_, of all things, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about doing all manner of very wicked things with him? And why had his body added to his confusion and discomfort by making his cock so enthusiastically and undeniably hard?

"Breakfast, Merlin," Arthur grunted into his pillow.

"Yes, Sire," Merlin said guiltily, rolling out of bed and tumbling to the floor as his feet got tangled with his blanket. "Breakfast. Right away. Um."

Merlin tidied up his things and stumbled his way out of the room and down the stairs, back into the main room on the ground floor. There were still a handful of hardened drinkers there, one with a girl on his lap whom Merlin guessed had been paid to sit there, (among other things).

Merlin glanced away, shy, and concentrated on the task in hand.

He left Arthur with his breakfast and went to the stables to get the horses ready. They snickered as he approached their stalls, craning their necks towards him. He petted behind ears and stroked long, graceful necks, mildly chastising Hengroen when he nibbled at Merlin's neckerchief.

"Lovely horses, sir."

Merlin recognised the young stable lad he'd left their horses with the previous night. He didn't look more than fourteen, his voice still prone to squeaking, his face prone to pimples.

"Yes, thanks," Merlin said.

"You'll be wanting them saddled up?"

"That's alright, I can do it."

"It would be a pleasure, with horses like that. Don't often get 'em here as good as them."

"Shhh," said Merlin, with a smile. "They'll get big-headed."

The boy snorted a laugh. "I'll go get the tack."

He came back a few moments later and Merlin watched as the lad saddled first Hengroen and then Vesta. He worked quickly and deftly, giving each saddle a polish as he went.

"There's an inn called The Fox at Riverthorn, a day's ride on the northern road," he said. "When you get to the stables, ask for Len. He's my brother."

"Really? Does your whole family work with horses, then?"

"Pretty much. Pa's head groomsman for my Lord's stables up at the big house. Ma was kitchen maid when she was alive; she passed two winters ago. Then there's me and my brother. "

"I'm sorry. About your mother."

The boy shrugged. "It was the fever. Nothing anyone could do. You got family?"

"Just my Mother. My father was… he died."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks. Have you done with him?" Merlin reached anxiously for Hengroen's reins. Jack shrugged and handed them over.

"So where are you headed?"

"I'm not sure." Merlin checked the girth and stirrups, flicked imaginary dust off the saddle blanket. "We're on a hunting trip, it depends where my master wants to go."

"Hunting trip, eh? Just the two of you?"

"He says it's quieter that way."

"Isn't it dangerous, off the road and all?"

"Nothing we can't handle. He's quite handy with a sword."

"So was my last master. Handy with a whip, too," said Jack with a rueful grin. "'S why I ran away. Fetched up here, though, got a good job… life's looking up, I'd say."

Merlin felt a wave of compassion; the boy looked so young to have already been through the loss of his mother and to have been servant to an abusive master. He dug into his pocket and plucked out a few pennies. "Here," he said, pressing them into Jack's palm. "Thanks for helping out with the horses."

Jack gave a little bow and a cheeky grin. "Thanks…. what was your name again?"

"Merlin," said Merlin.

"Well, you just be careful up North. There's bandits on the prowl up there, so I've heard."

"I will." Merlin took the reins of both horses, and nudged them gently out of their stalls. "Thanks, Jack."

"Bye, Merlin," said Jack, and watched Merlin leave the stables.

*

There was a rustling from the tack room once Merlin had gone, and a dark, cloaked shape emerged, his face turned to the wall.

"Did you find out anything?"

"He's headed North, on a 'hunting trip', so he said. Just him and his master."

"And his father?"

"Definitely dead. Recent, I'd say, by the look of him when he spoke of it."

"Thanks, Jack. You've done well."

"Don't mention it, sire. All part of the service."

The coins the stranger gave him were old and thin and half of what Merlin had given him, and it was that, Jack told himself, and only that, which left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

It certainly wasn't remorse.

*

"Are you getting homesick, Merlin?"

"Hmm?" Merlin roused himself from a half-doze and squinted at Arthur, who looked shockingly perky and alert.

"You've been horribly quiet this morning."

There was a smug undercurrent to Arthur's tone that Merlin really didn't like. "I was resting," he said. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"That makes sense, I suppose. You _never_ get enough sleep, do you Merlin?"

"Not with you snoring all night, no."

"I do _not_ snore."

"Yes you do."

"That's a lie."

"No it's not. Gwen says so too. And Leon, and Edmund-"

"What did Edmund say?"

Arthur looked shocked, nervous even. Merlin's curiosity was piqued. "Just that you snore like a drunken boar. Why, what did you think he'd have said?"

"Nothing. And that's absurd." Arthur shifted in his saddle. "I would have noticed."

"That's the whole thing about snoring. You never know you're doing it."

Something about that irritated Arthur intently: his brow furrowed and he gave Merlin a very annoyed glance.

"Although I remember Gaius waking himself up snoring once. That was funny, he'd fallen asleep at his bench, snoring away, and then he gave this huge grunting, spluttering noise-" Merlin embellished with a somewhat exaggerated imitation of the sound "-and then he woke up all at once, and there was bergamot everywhere and his sleeve caught fire and-"

Merlin stopped under the weight of Arthur's glare. "Sorry. I suppose you had to be there, really."

"Can I just say how very, very glad I am that I wasn't?"

"It was funny. Honestly."

Arthur made a "tch" of disapproval and they rode on in silence for a few moments.

"Actually," Arthur said, just as Merlin was dozing off again. "There was this one time Father was sleeping in his study, and Morgana and I - we were just children at the time - we crept in and tickled his nose with the feather of his quill. He woke up with the most almighty sneeze."

He grinned, and Merlin grinned back, partly at the image of the mighty Uther being roused from slumber by a feathery sneeze, but also, more powerfully, by the image of Morgana and Arthur as children, terrorising the inhabitants of Camelot with pranks.

And then Merlin simply thought _Morgana_, and the pain of it was almost too much to bear.

"Yeah," he said. "I do miss Camelot a bit. Shall we stop for lunch?"

"That's a splendid idea, Merlin." Arthur reached across to tap Ferox's cage where it sat, tied securely to the back of Merlin's saddle. "Fancy some rabbit?"

*

They reached the next town just as the night was drawing in. Merlin had spent a good deal of the day being irritated by Arthur in one way or another. If he wasn't insulting Merlin he was ordering him around, and whatever he was doing, he was doing it with very very blue eyes and a very interesting mouth and very broad shoulders. Being alternately insulted, yelled at and fascinated was exhausting, and Merlin couldn't wait to find some corner of a nice warm stable to curl up and go to sleep in.

He only hoped there was a nice warm stable somewhere, because he was absolutely certain he wasn't going to sleep in Arthur's bed again.

Riverthorn was big, almost as big as the town of Camelot but without the imposing presence of a castle. This was the sort of town that had more than one of most things, including inns, and Merlin realised he had no clue which one to choose. Fortunately Arthur did; he found a respectable-looking merchant, overpaid him for a bag of apples and after a short conversation with the man, told Merlin they were on their way to the Lamb and Flag.

Merlin was about to tell Arthur in no uncertain terms that it was all very well to have a name, what about directions, when he spotted a figure out of the corner of his eye. Whoever it was had a guilty conscience because they hurried away as soon as Merlin turned to look at them, and Merlin's heart skipped a beat. Whoever it was had taken care to keep their face hidden by a hood, but there was something familiar about them; the way they moved, or-

"Merlin, have you been listening to a word I've said?"

In the second it took for Merlin to turn to Arthur and back again, the hooded man had vanished.

"The Lamb and Flag?" Merlin said, absently, scanning the crowd.

"Yes, Merlin, the Lamb and Flag. Past the end of the market, turn right, keep going until you reach the square and then it's on your left, opposite the Fox."

"Oh. Alright then."

"Take the horses, get us a room for the night and see the animals are taken care of. I'm going to take a look around."

"Are you sure?" Merlin fought a little pang of anxiety.

"Perfectly sure, Merlin, although thank you for your concern," said Arthur, smug and annoying and attractive as ever. "I'll be there in an hour."

"Alright, then," said Merlin, and set off in the direction Arthur had indicated.

"Merlin?"

Merlin turned back with a long-suffering sigh. "Yes, Arthur?"

"The horses?"

Merlin looked from Arthur to the horses, to the stall holder (who was smirking) and back to Arthur again.

He irritably took the reins from Arthur and left without another word.

*

"… and as if that isn't bad enough," Merlin muttered to his horse, "there's the snoring. Because he _does_ snore, whatever he says, and I don't-"

Things happened very quickly. They were approaching the stables behind the inn, Merlin rambling on, when suddenly Vesta shied, blowing and snorting, which set Hengroen off. Merlin was doing his best to gentle them when he caught sight of something in the shadows, something that was becoming annoyingly familiar, and suddenly, as whoever it was slunk into the alley behind the stable, Merlin realised he knew exactly who it was. He slung the horse reins around the rail outside the stable and ran into the alley. But Merlin was too fast for the figure, catching him just as he was about to escape out of the other end.

He grabbed a shoulder, spun the man around and slammed him into the wall, holding him there with one arm across the chest. Merlin ripped off the hood, flinging it angrily into the mud behind them.

"That's enough!" Merlin hissed. "How about you tell me exactly what you're doing here and why you're following me?"

"Well, hello, Merlin," said Aloysius. "I missed you, too."

*


	5. Chapter 5

"I told you to tell me what you're doing here." Merlin demanded.

"My my, someone's feeling testy," said Aloysius. "If you'd like to stop pretending to be a tough guy I've got a proposition for you."

Merlin relaxed the arm that was pinning Aloysius to the wall, just a little. "Talk fast," he said.

"I'd love to know what's put you in such a bad mood. We could go and have a chat over a tankard of ale, you know. But if you'd rather assault me in a common alley way…."

"You were following me. You've been following me since Cinross, if not all the way from bloody Camelot. That makes a person suspicious."

"I didn't think you'd want me to pop up and say hello with your precious Arthur around. And he is around _a lot_, isn't he? He's even joined you on your little quest."

"We're on a hunting trip."

"If you say so."

Merlin gave Aloysius a long stare. Aloysius looked back with that same shrewd, feline expression he'd given Merlin back in Camelot. Merlin could feel Aloysius's heartbeat thrumming in his chest, fast but steady. There was a hint of a smirk on his lips that gave him the suggestion of dimples.

Merlin's fingers released Aloysius's shirt; his arm fell from his chest. "If you run, I will catch you," Merlin said. "Start talking."

"Don't I even get a drink first?"

"Listen-"

In a second Aloysius surged forwards with surprising strength, turning the tables so Merlin was the one with his back pressed against the wall. Merlin's right hand twitched; magic surged through him. He held it tight, controlled.

"No," Aloysius said. "You listen, Merlin. I'm a reasonable man. I know why you're here. Let's not pretend I don't. I also know a few other things about you that you might not want your precious Arthur to know, so why don't we both behave like decent human beings and go and discuss this somewhere you can't turn me into a toad. Alright?"

Merlin let the magic fade. He was furious, beyond furious, as much with himself for falling into a trap as anything else. But risking magic in a public place wasn't going to help that. He took a deep breath.

"If you're not gone by the time Arthur comes-"

"You'll what? Pretend you don't know me? Oh, I'm hurt, Merlin. I thought we had a special relationship."

Something about the way he said 'special' stopped Merlin in his tracks, and before he'd recovered Aloysius was pressing his mouth to Merlin's. It was barely a kiss, over in a second, Merlin was struck dumb and still with the mere thought of it. But in the split second before he was capable of thought, his body gave its opinion in no uncertain terms. Merlin's skin warmed and his belly clenched and for that one, fleeting second he wanted to kiss Aloysius right back, to flatten him against the wall and….

Merlin shoved Aloysius away, and Aloysius let him, but the smirk was full-on now and Merlin was madder than ever.

"That's better," Aloysius said. "The ale here is supposed to be the best in the northern lands, you know."

Merlin followed him into the tavern.

*

"It's a small game, a local affair, run by the landlord of the Fox. It's nothing special, just dice and cups, low stakes. What d'you say?"

"No." said Merlin. "I thought I made that clear back in Camelot."

Aloysius licked ale-froth off his upper lip. "You said you didn't want to come with me. But seeing as we're in the same place anyway..."

"You're pretending that happened by accident?"

"Of course not, I know what's in that scroll, remember? It just so happens I know this game is here, and you'd be here, so.... Come on, Merlin, it would be fun. We could make a shit-load of money."

"What happened to the money we made last time?"

Aloysius shrugged and looked away. "It comes, it goes."

"You gambled it away," said Merlin, with a pang of disgust. "All that money and you just-"

"Let's not get into judging each other, shall we, Merlin? Because I know whenever you think about that scroll you're drenched in guilt and I don't think it would take me too long to work out why."

"You could try," said Merlin.

"Ooh, fighting talk from the young warlock. Keen to unburden your secrets after all, eh? Because that's what they are to you, aren't they, Merlin? A _burden_. Must drive you mad at night, worrying about what your precious Arthur would do if he found out."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I can see it might get confusing. Because your magic isn't the only secret you're keeping from him, is it?"

Merlin looked up sharply. Aloysius's eyes were narrowed, clever, devious as ever. "That's none of your business."

"That's a shame. I could help. Bet you'd love to know what goes through his mind when he watches you bend over to fix the buckle on your boots."

"What?"

Aloysius laughed. "Oh, really Merlin. You are the most deliciously naive-"

"Stop this," Merlin said, furious, his voice low and as threatening as he could manage. "Just tell me. What do you want from me?"

Apparently unmoved by Merlin's anger, Aloysius took a slow pull on his ale, swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Help me out with the game tonight. You've got nothing to lose, you'll be on your way in the morning and no-one will be any the wiser about anything. Who knows, you might make a bit for yourself again."

"And if I refuse?" Because Merlin needed to hear it, needed to know for certain how completely and utterly stupid he'd been the day he struck the bargain to get the scroll.

"I'll tell Arthur."

Merlin hissed in breath. "But if you tell Arthur I have magic he'll have me killed, and then I definitely won't be able to help you cheat at dice anymore, will I?"

Aloysius leaned across the table. "You're not listening, Merlin. I didn't say anything about telling Arthur about your _magic_."

Merlin's guts went tight with panic. "Then what-"

"You brought the scroll with you, didn't you? That scroll has magic written all over it. Just to possess such a thing is a serious crime in Camelot, is it not?"

"But-"

"You have too many secrets, Merlin. That's not the only one I could spill. It's just the kindest."

Merlin stared down at the table, defeated. He had thought, perhaps, that Aloysius might be a friend. But he'd seen the look of greed in his eyes back in Camelot, and it was clear that he wanted Merlin's help at the gambling tables a lot more than he wanted his friendship.

Heart heavy, not meeting Aloysius's gaze, Merlin said, "Alright. But this is the last time."

"Of course, Merlin," Aloysius said. "You can trust me."

And Merlin knew absolutely, without doubt, that he could not.

*

Merlin made his excuses after dinner and left Arthur reading in his room while he went to meet Aloysius in the Fox. He'd told some story about going to check on the horses, not that Arthur paid much attention. In fact it wasn't altogether a lie; he fully intended to return to the stables after whatever Aloysius had in mind - things were far too complicated everywhere he turned and a few simple hours where there were only horses and a pile of straw to deal with sounded like bliss to Merlin.

The Fox was smaller and dingier than the Lamb and Flag, and he couldn't see Aloysius at first; just a room full of men who, while not exactly commoners, reeked of bad choices and cheap ale. Then he noticed an open door at the back of the bar, and through the door, a glimpse of black bandana and expensive boots.

Merlin hurried across the room, anxious to get the whole sordid business over with as quickly as possible. No sooner had he stepped across the threshold than the door shut behind him. He coughed; the air was thick with choking smoke from an ill-kept fire in the corner, and there were no windows. Just another door to the left of the hearth.

"Ah, Merlin," Aloysius said. "Come on in, don't be shy. Gentlemen, this is the lad I was telling you about."

Aloysius slung an over-familiar arm around Merlin's shoulders and guided him to the table in the centre of the room. It was smaller than the one in the tent back in Camelot, but had the same canvas cover painted with the same grid of numbers. There were five men ranged around the table. All but one looked up and gave Merlin meaningless smiles, eyes gleaming with greed and desperation. The fifth had his head down, resting on folded arms in a puddle of ale, apparently asleep.

"Hello," said Merlin. "I'm sorry, I'm new to this. I hope I don't mess up."

"Don't worry, boy," the man nearest the head of the table said. "Everyone has a first time."

"We'll be gentle," said the man next to him, and the room erupted in raucous laughter.

Merlin blushed, which he supposed would at least serve to strengthen his persona as an innocent ripe for corruption, but he hated it just the same. Aloysius gave him a look of feigned sympathy that made Merlin wanted to hit him very hard on the nose.

"Here, sit next to me," Aloysius said, shoving Merlin down onto a wooden stool. "I'll look after you."

Merlin managed a smile which he hoped looked more grateful and less murderous than it felt.

He surveyed the dubious company he'd thrown himself in with. The man who'd been first to speak to him was big and battle-worn, one eye so badly scarred he could barely open it. One hand - his sword-hand, Merlin guessed - was wrapped around a tankard, missing two fingers, the others twisted, his grip painful-looking. The man to his right was younger, better-looking but with the ruddy complexion and glazed eyes of a serious drinker. The remaining two were younger: one quite smartly dressed, his companion in old leather armour, but both with the same haunted, desperate look in their eyes.

Aloysius slid a tankard of ale in front of Merlin and Merlin took a swig of it in the vague hope it might quell his nausea. It didn't.

The door by the fireplace opened, admitting a welcome waft of cool, relatively clean air. Merlin looked up to see who was coming in.

He shouldn't have been surprised, really. As soon as he saw her it all made perfect, crushing, miserable sense.

He watched her take her place at the head of the table, red hair cascading over a rich, green velvet dress.

"Good evening, gentlemen," she said. "Place your bets, first game of the night. Lady plays sweet doubles."

She looked Merlin straight in the eye, and winked.

*

"Gentleman to my right wins, new game. Straight luck, no bonuses. Bets please, gentlemen."

Merlin coughed. He was on the verge of panic. He kept losing, because if Aloysius thought he was going to use magic in front of the Lady again he was an idiot, and the Lady saw to it that he wasn't going to win the old-fashioned way. It may have been Aloysius's stake but it wasn't the money Merlin was worried about. His eyes stung with smoke.

He scraped his chair back and got to his feet, painfully aware that all eyes were on him. "I'm just, um-" he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, towards the door. "Need some fresh air."

Battle-scarred Man laughed, his companions soon joining in. It wasn't a nice sort of laughter at all.

"You can't leave until the game's over," said Aloysius. "Sit down, Merlin."

It was the first thing Aloysius had said to him since Lady Margaret entered the room. He sounded almost apologetic, staring at the table, reluctant to meet Merlin's gaze.

Merlin sat.

"So, Merlin, is it?" said Battle-scarred. "That's a pretty name, pretty boy."

"I... no," said Merlin. "I don't know why he called me that. My name's, um, Rupert."

More laughter.

"Tell them," Merlin said, and elbowed Aloysius very hard in the ribs.

"That's why I called you Merlin," said Aloysius, as if to an idiot, reminding Merlin far too much of Arthur. "No real names, remember? Ah, Rupert, you have so much to learn."

Another wave of laughter, and Merlin was seriously considering setting fire to something to cover a swift escape when Aloysius squeezed his knee under the table. Then Merlin just considered setting fire to Aloysius.

"Your attention please, Gentlemen," said Lady Margaret. "The Lady plays low."

Merlin sullenly emptied the whole pouch of coins Aloysius had given him on double-six.

Aloysius laughed nervously. "He's a beginner," he said. "He doesn't really know what he's doing."

"I understand perfectly," Merlin said. He looked the Lady right in the eye. "Lowest score wins, double stake for two ones, correct?"

Lady Margaret inclined her head graciously in affirmation.

"Merlin," Aloysius whimpered.

"Rupert," Merlin corrected him. "And as soon as I've lost everything, I get to leave?"

"Yes," said the Lady.

"Thank you," said Merlin. "Everything on double-six."

The other men placed their bets generously, tempted by the huge pile of coins Merlin had offered them.

The dice rolled from the Lady's cup, and Merlin stilled time.

Merlin felt the same tug, the same force from beneath the canvas table-cover, pulling the dice to double-six. The Lady clearly had no intention of letting Merlin leave. Perhaps she'd forgotten or didn't quite believe what he'd achieved with his magic the last time.

It didn't take much, just the slightest twitch of Merlin's power, to tumble the dice to a double-one, making sure they'd settled true before he fell back to ordinary time.

The battle-scarred man was whooping and cheering, his neighbour clapping him on the back while the others smiled sourly at him.

"Oh Merlin," Aloysius said.

"Lowest score wins, loser pays double," the Lady said, with an ominous smile.

"What?" said Merlin.

"Double stake for double ones," Aloysius said, miserably.

"But-"

"Double _Stake_, Merlin. The house doesn't pay out. You do."

"I haven't anything to pay with," Merlin said weakly, staring at the pile of money the battle-scarred man was gathering from the table. "I don't have anything else."

The Lady leant in close, her breasts skimming the canvas as she collected the dice back into her shaker. "Oh, but you do," she said, sweetly, her lips tilted in apparent amusement. "You really do. _Rupert_."

*

"You can't win _me_. How can you own a person?"

"You're a servant," Battle-scarred said. "You're already owned, boy."

"Then I can't give myself away," Merlin pointed out. "Only my Master can do that."

Battle-scarred got to his feet; he was just as imposing as his swagger suggested. Merlin suspected he could swat anyone in the room like a fly. "Take me to this Master of yours, then. I'm sure I can make him see reason."

Merlin took a step back, knocking over the stool in the process.

"Be seated, Guntvig," the Lady said. "The game is not over yet, and no-one trades lives at my tables. Leave the boy to me."

Guntvig mumbled his reluctant assent and took his place at the tables again.

"A word with you," the Lady said to Merlin, and beckoned him to follow her through the door by the hearth and into an ante room. There was a chair draped in furs and a small table laden with refreshments. The Lady poured herself a goblet of wine from a decanter, and offered Merlin a plate of sweetmeats.

Merlin shook his head. He kept his hands behind his back, fingers twisting around each other.

"You've got yourself into quite the pickle," Lady Margaret said.

"Really?" said Merlin. "I hadn't noticed."

She popped a truffle into her mouth. Her lips were red and full. She delicately licked her fingers.

"I can leave any time I want," Merlin said. "You can't stop me."

"No." She gave him a long, penetrating look. "I don't suppose I can. That would mean you have a choice."

"A choice?"

"Yes. You could, as you quite rightly say, leave. I expect that would involve a lot of drama, Guntvig would hunt you down and there would be violence of a most unpleasant variety. Or, you could let me help you."

"I don't need your help."

"Is that so?"

"I can cheat just as well as you," hissed Merlin. "I've beaten you before, remember?"

"That's where you're wrong, you see. Manipulating the dice is one thing. Manipulating the _game_ is something else entirely. To win the game you have to understand the game, and I really don't think you do, do you, Merlin?"

"I made a mistake. That doesn't mean-"

"So, you could leave, or you could work for me."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Even up the odds a little."

"You can do that quite well yourself," hissed Merlin. "You don't need me."

"That's not always strictly true, Merlin. My luck is not infallible, and there are those who are wise to such… methods of securing a win. We could make an excellent team, Merlin. With my skill, Aloysius's talent and your power."

Merlin looked her in the eye, the fingers of his right hand spreading. "You want me to help you cheat."

"I want you to help me run the game."

"Guess I'd better leave, then. There's no way I'm getting mixed up in this. You're ruining peoples' lives."

The Lady laughed. "No, my dear, I'm really not. Men like this would ruin their lives quite easily on their own. At least this way they're doing it indoors, and nobody else gets hurt."

"What about Aloysius?"

"Aloysius wants for nothing."

"So long as he keeps playing."

"He made his choice."

"Is this what you did to him? Backed him into a corner and forced him to help you for the rest of his life?"

Lady Margaret laughed. "Really, Merlin, you have an immense propensity for exaggeration. Aloysius is hardly my slave." Her eyes narrowed, her lips curving into a sly smile. "Not even my servant. He's a free man. Don't you ever want to be free, Merlin?"

"I am free," Merlin said. "Nobody's forcing me to be Arthur's servant."

"My, such loyalty. Prince Arthur is a lucky man indeed. Fortunately I don't need to wrestle you from his big muscular arms. But if you were to perform one simple task for me, our debt can be forgotten and, if you insist, we can go our separate ways."

"What's the task?" Merlin asked, suspiciously.

"There's a man staying at this inn who has something which belongs to me. I would like you to retrieve it for me."

"He stole it from you?"

"In a manner of speaking. It's a ring that belonged to my mother; it's very precious to me."

"Where is it?"

"He keeps it locked in a small box under his pillow. It is his habit to take a walk every evening before he retires for the night. You will check that he's gone, enter his room, open the box, retrieve my ring and bring it back to me. Then your debt will be repaid."

"And if I don't?"

"Providing you survive whatever Guntvig has in store, it'll be up to Arthur to decide what to do about his servant being a sorcerer. Do you think he's ready for that test yet?"

Merlin closed his eyes and silently cursed his own stupidity.

"This quest is important to you," the Lady said, softly. "Do this, and it is yours to complete, unhindered."

"Alright," said Merlin. "Tell me where I can find his room."

*

The hallway was dark: dingy candlelight quickly dispersed by expanses of wood paneling and faded, moth-bothered tapestries. Merlin crept along, Aloysius a half-step behind him. The Lady had insisted he would be useful, although Merlin was thoroughly convinced he'd be better off alone.

"This door," Aloysius said. "On the left." He was still for a moment, as if thinking. "There's no-one home."

Merlin gestured at the door handle and whispered ~_Tospringe_~. There was a soft click and the door swung open by an inch.

"Very nice," Aloysius said.

"Oh, shut up," said Merlin.

The room was even darker than the hallway. Merlin found a candle on a low table just inside the door, and lit it. He waited a moment, becoming slowly accustomed to the shadows, then crept towards the big, curtained bed in the centre of the room.

"Keep watch," he whispered. "Don't touch anything."

"As if I would. I'm not a complete amateur, you know."

Merlin found a pillow and felt under it: sure enough, there was a box, just as the Lady had promised. Merlin sprang the lock and had just closed his fingers around the ring inside when Aloysius hissed at him, "Quick! He's coming back!"

Merlin forced himself to keep calm long enough to re-lock the box, replace it under the pillow and square the pillow on the bed. By then Aloysius looked ready to bolt for it and he could hear footsteps in the hall outside.

"Quick," Merlin said, grabbing Aloysius's hand and tugging him across the room. He flattened himself against the wall to the right of the entrance, Aloysius beside him, and swiftly shut and relocked the door before blowing out the candle.

"Merlin," Aloysius whispered, his hand still in Merlin's. It was cold and clammy and, to Merlin's surprise, trembling.

"It's alright. When he opens the door he'll turn to the left, that's where the candle is. Only the candle isn't there, which buys us time to get out. Just follow me."

Aloysius squeezed his hand. "Okay."

The doorknob rattled.

Merlin held fast, wishing Aloysius wasn't breathing so loudly. Then the knob was turning and the door was opening, and a tall man, dressed in a dark, hooded cloak, strode into the room. Just as Merlin predicted he turned straight to the table where the candle should be.

Merlin gave Aloysius a shove and they slipped silently out of the door while the man was still fumbling for light.

*

"Shut up and look normal!"

But Aloysius couldn't stop laughing; Merlin had managed to get them both to the end of the hallway in moderate quiet, but as soon as they'd turned the corner Aloysius had started to shake and giggle, almost hysterical with relief.

"I thought you did things like this all the time?" Merlin said.

"I don't usually cut it that fine," Aloysius gasped. "I thought he was going to turn around and see us, for sure!"

"It's amazing how people really don't look when they're not expecting to see things. Come on, pull yourself together. Let's get this back to the Lady. I want to get out of here."

Aloysius nodded, and managed to calm himself down enough that they could cross the bar without attracting too much attention.

In the back room, the games continued. All but the sleeping gambler looked up as they came in; the Lady smiled.

"Please take a break, gentlemen, and avail yourselves of refreshment while I conclude my business with our two young friends."

"Eh?" said Guntvig.

"Get more ale while she gets your money," his friend helpfully supplied.

Merlin and Aloysius followed Lady Margaret into the back room, where Merlin passed her the ring. She smiled, the closest he'd seen to a genuine smile on her lips, and slipped the ring on the ring finger of her right hand. It fitted perfectly.

"Right," said Merlin. "I'll be on my way."

"Wait," Aloysius said. "How are you going to pay Guntvig? Merlin still doesn't have enough money."

"Ah," said the Lady. "Well, you tell me, Aloysius. You're the mind reader."

Aloysius took a step back, towards the door. "Merlin?" he said.

"Yes?"

"Run!"

And Merlin must have trusted him still because he had turned and was about to throw himself out of the door and run clean to the stables. But it was too late. He came face to face with Guntvig himself, and standing this close the man looked as imposing as a thirty-foot wall with spikes on top.

"Enough waiting," Guntvig said. "I want my winnings."

"Double or quits?" Merlin said, with the feeblest of grins.

*


	6. Chapter 6

Merlin swallowed hard, and gathered his magic. He would much rather _not_ \- the last thing he needed was for a few random low-lifes to know his secret. The Lady and Aloysius were two people too many. But he couldn't see any other way out, and was about to set fire to Guntvig's sword belt when he heard a familiar voice.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I wonder if anyone could help me? I'm looking for my servant."

"Arthur!" Merlin relaxed instantly, the magic dissipating without inflicting so much as a singe on Guntvig's person.

Guntvig turned around, creating just enough room for Arthur to reach past him and grab Merlin's arm. Arthur gave Guntvig a civil nod and they were almost at the door before anyone else seemed to realise what was going on.

"Wait!" Guntvig barked.

Merlin and Arthur stopped and turned. Guntvig had produced a nasty-looking axe from somewhere and judging by the evil glint in his eye he was looking forward to embedding it in someone's skull very soon. Probably, thought Merlin sadly, his.

"Do I have some quarrel with you?" Arthur said calmly. "I do apologise if my servant has been any bother."

"He's not your servant any more," growled Guntvig.

"Sadly, you are mistaken," Arthur said. "I can assure you that curse is mine."

"I won him fair and square."

Arthur laughed. "You _won_ him?"

"It's kind of true," Merlin murmured. Arthur backhanded him across the shoulder.

"A bet's a bet," said Guntvig.

Merlin rubbed his shoulder. "Ow."

"How much?" said Arthur.

Guntvig looked taken aback. "I don't know, exactly."

Arthur produced a money pouch from his jacket pocket. "Would this cover it?"

Guntvig took the pouch warily, as if he expected it to explode in his face. Merlin briefly considered making that happen; it would almost be worth it.

Then Guntvig's eyes went wide.

"Well?" said Arthur.

"I'm not looking for a fight," Guntvig said, neatly pocketing the pouch. "I'll accept this as a gesture of goodwill and that's an end to it."

"Excellent," said Arthur. "Goodnight, all."

And with that he dragged Merlin out of the room and closed the door firmly behind them.

"Thanks," said Merlin, beaming at Arthur, relief flooding through him.

"I don't want another word out of you until we get back to my room. And then I want an explanation. Is that clear?"

Merlin took one look at Arthur's face, and his smile faded. "Yes Sire," he said humbly, and followed Arthur home.

*

"So, Merlin," said Arthur, leaning back in his chair. "I'm all ears."

"I'm sorry," said Merlin. He noticed Arthur's clothes scattered around the floor from where he'd changed after they'd first arrived at the inn. He started to pick things up and chuck them into the corner, checking for rips or holes as he went.

"You're sorry."

"Hmm."

"Do you have any idea how much I just paid for your useless hide?"

"I don't suppose there's any chance you think I'm worth it?"

"After tonight's performance, frankly, no. What on earth were you _thinking_, Merlin?"

"I was... I don't know."

"I'm used to you being an appalling servant, disappearing for hours on end, saying the most inappropriate things.... but this? _Gambling_, Merlin? Really?"

Merlin fiddled with the corner of Arthur's shirt: the hem was worn ragged; he wondered if he had any thread the right colour with him.... "It's not how it looks."

"You were mixing with low-life scum."

"Okay, maybe it's a bit how it looks. But I wasn't doing it on purpose."

"You were playing dice by _accident_?!"

"Yes. Well, no, I mean...." Merlin hung his head, Arthur's shirt limp in his hands. "I don't know what to say."

"You could start by telling me the truth."

Merlin turned away, ostensibly to toss the shirt into the corner he had designated the laundry pile.

"I don't understand you, Merlin. You drag me all this way-"

"I didn't drag you, you were the one who wanted to come."

"- just for this? I'm beginning to wonder if this errand of yours is really anything of the kind or if it's just an excuse for you to indulge in the basest sort of...."

Arthur's voice tailed off. Merlin, who had bent to pick up a sock, looked over his shoulder to find out why and noticed that Arthur had the most peculiar look on his face.

"... activity," Arthur finished, with a shake of his head, as if clearing his mind of a troublesome thought. "Explain yourself."

_Bet you'd love to know what goes through his mind when he watches you bend over to fix the buckle on your boots._

Merlin straightened up, and chucked the sock over his shoulder.

"Why did you come looking for me?"

"Don't change the subject, Merlin."

"Alright, then. This is the truth. I bumped into a friend who was in trouble and he needed help, so I tried to, but I got in above my head. So. Why did you come and find me?"

Their eyes met, Arthur's gaze steady and open as ever. It made Merlin feel like a filthy liar by comparison, but only for a moment. Arthur's eyes were very blue, and he looked so handsome, so damn _noble_, that Merlin's heart could have burst.

"I was worried about you," Arthur confessed. "And the ferret was getting antsy."

Merlin glanced at the rug by the fire, where Ferox was curled up sound asleep, nose resting in the luxuriant fur of her tail.

"She does look agitated," said Merlin. "What with the snoring and all."

"Shut up, Merlin."

"Yes, Arthur."

And that might have been that; Merlin might have gone back to tidying up Arthur's things; he might have dug the thread out of his pack and started to mend Arthur's shirt; he might have retrieved the silver coin the ferret had apparently stashed away under the rug, or perhaps they would just have gone to bed, Arthur perpetuating a stony silence until dawn.

But instead, Arthur stood up and crossed the room to pick up a log and place it on the fire. It flared brightly, sudden heat washing over Merlin's skin.

"Promise me you won't go off on your own like that again," Arthur said. "It's not safe."

"I would have been fine."

"No," Arthur said, his voice deceptively soft. "You would not."

"I can take care of myself. It was nothing I couldn't have handled-"

Arthur took hold of Merlin's shoulders and turned him around to face him, the flickering firelight making him look even angrier than before. "When I think of those ugly, filthy bastards laying a hand on you I can't stand it. I want to gut each and every one of them; I want to put a lance through their disgusting, corpulent bellies and roast them over a slow fire. They're the scum of the earth and you... you shouldn't... you..."

Arthur's grip lessened as he came to his senses; he looked mortified, and Merlin was half-waiting for him to say something stupid and dismissive and take it all back. But he didn't.

"You're better than that," he finished.

"Arthur," said Merlin, gently. "What do you think they were going to do to me?"

"Use you," Arthur said. "That's what he does, that man, Guntvig. The landlord told me. He keeps boys as slaves, charges people to... Merlin, surely I don't have to explain how prostitution works."

Merlin was speechless; Arthur was making no sense but his hands were warm on Merlin's shoulders and Merlin's mind was swimming with confusion.

"No," he managed, eventually. "No, he didn't really mean...."

"You're an idiot," said Arthur, not unkindly.

Finally, things slotted into place: what Aloysius had said; Arthur inviting him into his bed; a hundred looks and touches and this heat that coiled in Merlin's belly every time he saw Arthur smile. And for once Merlin didn't take the things apart again and call himself a fool; for once Merlin let them stay. And then he took a risk far greater than any roll of dice, or theft, or taking Guntvig at his word.

He took a step closer to Arthur, slid his hands into Arthur's hair, and kissed him.

Arthur's entire body went still for a moment, and he muffled a few unintelligible words against Merlin's mouth. But then his arms were very definitely pulling Merlin close, not pushing him away, and he kissed Merlin back with an enthusiasm Merlin hadn't imagined possible.

Actually, he realised with a shock, he'd never really imagined simply _kissing_ Arthur. Only other, more obscene things. He felt a little embarrassed about that.

"Merlin," Arthur said, then paused to nibble at Merlin's lower lip before he continued, "I want to take you to bed and do-" Another nibble. "-filthy-" A kiss on the corner of Merlin's mouth. "-filthy-" And on his neck. "-things to you. Is that alright?"

"Yes," said Merlin. "So long as I can do them back."

"That sounds excellent," said Arthur, and he fumbled with the buckle of Merlin's belt.

"Let me do that."

"I can manage."

"Doesn't look like it to me."

Arthur tugged hard on Merlin's belt, pulling him in very, very close indeed, and rested his forehead on Merlin's. "I'm perfectly capable of undressing people."

"You've got it in a bit of a knot, though," Merlin pointed out, reasonably.

"Are you always like this? Do we have to argue all the way through?"

"I don't know. I've never done this before."

That stopped Arthur right in his tracks. He let go of Merlin's belt, took a half-step backwards and said, "Really?"

"Does it matter?" Merlin stripped his belt off in one swift, economic move.

"No, it's just… are you sure?"

"Yes," Merlin said, firmly, and then, as doubt crept in, "Why, are you?"

"Well, yes. Have been for a while, actually. Wanting this, I mean."

"Me too." Merlin dropped his belt on the floor and started in on Arthur's.

"But you've never…. not with anyone?"

"Do we have to labour the point?"

"No, sorry, no, of course not. No."

Arthur watched him, dumbstruck for a moment, as Merlin deftly twitched the leather out of its knot, through its buckle. Merlin was about to move on to Arthur's trouser laces, but Arthur stopped him, and pulled him in for another kiss. Soft, this time, while Arthur's hands worked their way under Merlin's shirt and touched his back.

"I mean," Arthur said, softly, "I'm honoured."

"I'm not a girl." Merlin found himself smiling, not quite able to be outraged.

"No," said Arthur. "No, you're really not. Come on. Let's get on the bed."

Merlin half-hopped to the bed, trying to get his boots off. He wasn't entirely successful, but fell on the bed with one boot off, and managed to rid himself of the other one while Arthur was busy laughing at him.

Arthur, meanwhile, had managed to remove his boots gracefully and with no fuss whatsoever, and he lay next to Merlin, on his side, head propped up on one elbow. Merlin lay on his back, heart racing, arms rigid at his sides.

"Well," Merlin said. "This is weird."

"It might help if you relax a little."

"Right," said Merlin, and his shoulders crept another half inch closer to his ears.

"Honestly, Merlin," Arthur muttered, and then he leaned across and kissed Merlin on the mouth.

It was a slow, easy sort of kiss, and Merlin found himself melting into it. His arms went naturally around Arthur, partly holding him in place and partly relishing being able to touch him. Arthur wasn't usually keen on touching unless it was the back-slapping, shoulder-punching sort. To be able to simply stroke his back; to find the outline of his shoulder blade; to drape an arm around his neck and feel the tickle of his hair on the back of his hand felt amazing.

"That's better," Arthur said, raising himself up again on one strong arm.

"Hmm," Merlin agreed, and pulled Arthur down for more kissing.

Arthur worked a hand up Merlin's shirt to stroke his side, flirting with his hip, his belly and finally swiping a thumb across Merlin's nipple.

Merlin laughed, breaking the kiss. Arthur looked mildly offended.

"That doesn't work on men," Merlin pointed out. "It's just ticklish."

A sly smile crept onto Arthur's face. "Is that right, Merlin?"

"Pretty sure," Merlin said.

Arthur skirted over Merlin's nipple again, then caught it between forefinger and thumb, pinched lightly, twisted, then stroked again and a jolt of pleasure shot from Merlin's chest to his groin and he couldn't help but arch off the bed, fingers tightening in Arthur's hair.

"Thought so," Arthur said, smugly.

"It doesn't usually do that," gasped Merlin.

"Well, it does now," said Arthur.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Arthur's hand settled over Merlin's ribs, warm and protective.

Merlin laughed. It was all suddenly ludicrous, that he was here, in Arthur's bed, doing things, _nipple_ things, after all this time, all that thinking nothing like this would ever, ever happen and now…

"I'm glad I'm so amusing to you, Merlin."

"No, no." Merlin's fingers were still in Arthur's hair; he moved them in small circles, a little bit in awe of the fact that he could, and that it felt so nice. "No, it's just… this is _weird_."

Arthur's expression broke into a smile. "Yes. yes, it is a bit. Good weird, though?"

Merlin nodded. "Good weird."

Arthur kissed Merlin briefly on the neck; it made everything feel far away and irrelevant, only the tingle of his skin mattering at all.

"You'd better get the neck thing off," Arthur said, giving Merlin's neckerchief a tug. "If I couldn't get your belt undone I don't stand a chance with that monstrosity."

Merlin glared at him and deftly unknotted the neckerchief. Arthur plucked it off eagerly, dropping it to the floor before running his tongue from the notch between Merlin's collarbones, along the arch of his neck and finally resting behind Merlin's ear, where he stopped and nipped at Merlin's earlobe. It should have been odd and ludicrous but all Merlin felt was that same tingle and heat, and a deep, visceral need to push his body into Arthur's in a vague attempt to release tension, to take the edge off. _Anything_.

"Still weird?" Arthur said, when he'd teased Merlin's ears a couple more times and Merlin had started to make a little moaning noise with every involuntary rock of his hips.

"Yeah," Merlin said, and then, a moment later, "Don't stop."

"I want to touch you. Is that alright?"

"You already are touching me," Merlin pointed out.

Arthur's had rested on Merlin's thigh, and squeezed.

"Oh," said Merlin. "Yes. Um, go ahead."

His mouth found Arthur's and they kissed. It helped Merlin ignore the embarrassment and the fear that once Arthur's hand had made its way inside his trousers he'd either come or go soft or something would be wrong or-

"Oh fuck," Merlin breathed.

Arthur pulled back, his hand perfectly still on Merlin's cock, surprise on his face.

"What?" said Merlin.

"I didn't know you even _knew_ words like that, Merlin!"

_I know a lot of words that might surprise you,_ Merlin thought, _some of them can start fires and floods and windstorms and open up the earth_, but what he said was, "Sorry?"

"It's alright, Merlin," said Arthur, laughing. "It's perfectly appropriate in the circumstances."

"Well, thanks," Merlin said. "I wouldn't want to be _inappropriate_ when you've got your hand down my trousers."

Arthur moved his hand, forming a loose fist and stroking it slowly down Merlin's very hard cock, and then back up again, thumb swiping over the tip. "Is that inappropriate enough for you?"

"Fuck," said Merlin again.

"Yeah," said Arthur, voice low and husky, lips brushing Merlin's ear. "Fuck."

Merlin rolled his hips and thrust into Arthur's hand, everything feeling wrong and different and not like when he did this himself, but at the same time feeling very much like he never wanted it to stop. "Harder," he said.

Arthur's grip tightened. "Like this?"

"Yeah." Merlin bit his lower lip, eyelashes fluttering as the pleasure intensified.

"Tell me when you're close."

Merlin waited for three more strokes then said, "close. Very… close."

Arthur kissed him, tongue pressing into Merlin's mouth for the first time, and Merlin had one last, brief thought, "He wants to kiss me while I come, oh _God_," and then he was there, he was done, his hips were jerking and he was sucking wildly on Arthur's tongue and he was spurting all over Arthur's hand, sticky and wet. Arthur made a noise, a rough growl in the back of his throat as he pulled the last of Merlin's orgasm from him, and Merlin knew he'd never heard that noise before, not like that, and he wanted it again and always and _fuck, fuck, fuck_…

Arthur's kiss gentled, his tongue withdrew; he brushed his lips over Merlin's cheekbones. He still held Merlin's cock loosely in his hand, all sticky and messy as it was, while Merlin came down.

"Merlin," Arthur said after a while.

"Yes?"

"You're not going to sleep, are you?"

A broad grin stretched across Merlin's face. "No," he said.

Arthur grinned back. There was a blush across his nose; his lips were wet. "Well, that's good."

All at once Merlin realised that so far Arthur had done all the work, which admittedly made a change, but Merlin felt bloody fantastic and had a huge and overwhelming desire to make Arthur feel this way too. His brain was fuddled and his limbs were lax and slow to move, but he really wanted to see Arthur trembling in ecstasy, so…

Merlin managed, with great effort, to turn onto his side. Face to face, he and Arthur grinned at each other just long enough for it to turn from happily foolish to downright silly. It was bordering on embarrassing when Merlin said, "I want to, um…"

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Do, um, would you like me to do that? To you?"

"Yes," said Arthur. "Although, Merlin…"

"Mmm?"

"You don't have to. Our relationship is… it's true that I think of you as something of a friend, but you are my servant and-"

Merlin pressed his mouth against Arthur's to silence him. "Don't," he said. "It's not like you could ever make me do something I didn't want to do."

Arthur gave a little laugh, and his arm tightened around Merlin's waist, drawing him closer. They kissed again, longer this time, open and soft and Merlin was starting to really like the feel of Arthur's tongue stroking and twisting against his.

Then he tried to take things a little further and it all went wrong. Apparently it was a lot easier to get your hand into someone else's trousers in fantasies than when faced with the complicated reality of linen, laces, underthings and a wrist that wouldn't twist at exactly the right angle. It ended with Arthur laughing and Merlin wanting to hit him, which wasn't exactly the desired effect.

"It might work better with less clothes," Arthur said.

"Yes. Shall I…"

"Let me. You get your own things off."

"Good idea."

A few moments later Merlin lay down naked next to Arthur, shivering and feeling distinctly skinny as he watched Arthur's lean, muscled body emerge from his clothes. He settled back on the bed and pulled Merlin to him, kissed him, and Merlin still couldn't get his head around how wrong-right that felt.

Merlin had seen Arthur naked countless times, knew his body intimately from a hundred different angles; but it hadn't prepared him in the slightest for how warm Arthur's skin felt under his fingertips; for how smooth, how sensitive. Places that usually caused Arthur to fidget when Merlin brushed them while taking his armour off now made him squirm.

Merlin watched Arthur's face as he touched his cock; partly for clues as to whether he was doing it right, but also out of sheer curiosity. When Merlin touched him in a certain way - a firm grip on the shaft, little finger trailing over his balls - Arthur's eyes slid shut, his head tipped back and his teeth sank into his lower lip. When Merlin touched the end of Arthur's cock, the corner of his mouth twitched and his whole body tensed. Merlin said, "Too much?" and Arthur nodded, and used his own hand on top of Merlin's to show him how he liked it. Merlin found his rhythm and went with it easily. Arthur was silent, rocking his hips and panting, and Merlin felt the tension spreading to his thighs, his belly.

"C'mon, Arthur," Merlin said. "You like this, don't you?"

Arthur nodded.

"You're allowed to make a noise, you know. You can let go. I'm here. Let go, Arthur, you can-"

"Merlin," Arthur gasped, and his body shuddered from head to foot as he came all over Merlin's hand.

Merlin kept stroking, rubbing the stuff into Arthur's skin, drinking in the sight of Arthur lost in pleasure. He was pulling some pretty ridiculous faces, actually, but it was still one of the most beautiful things Merlin had ever seen.

Eventually Arthur started to laugh, and batted Merlin's hand away. Merlin flopped back on the bed at Arthur's side, wiping his hand on the sheets.

"That was good, Merlin," Arthur said, and ruffled Merlin's hair. Merlin found he didn't mind that in the least. "Not bad for a beginner."

"Thank you, Sire," said Merlin with half-hearted sarcasm.

"I'm still very angry at you for going to that place, mind."

"Yes, Sire." Merlin yawned.

"I'm glad we've got that straight."

"Mmm," Merlin said, nuzzling into Arthur's arm. They were quiet for a while, Merlin blessedly thoughtless, and he might even have been drifting to sleep when he became aware of Arthur wriggling next to him.

"Right," said Arthur. "Your turn again."

"My what?" said Merlin, but Arthur was already slithering down the bed. Kissing Merlin's chest. His belly. His cock.

His _cock_.

"Arthur?"

Wet slide of lips and tongue and Merlin's cock was buried deep in Arthur's mouth and he was gasping for breath, fingers clutching at Arthur's shoulders.

Arthur slowly slid off again, and looked up. His lips were wet, and his hand was gripping the root of Merlin's cock like he owned it.

Which, Merlin supposed, he did.

"Want to do the same to me?" Arthur asked, cheerfully.

Merlin could only nod and make a squeaky sort of noise in the back of his throat. Arthur turned around in one lithe move, tugged Merlin to where he wanted him and Merlin, his body pliant with pleasure and trusting Arthur completely, went. Now they could both reach each other; as Arthur took Merlin's cock back into his mouth, Merlin found himself nose-to-nose, as it were, with Arthur's.

Merlin had always expected this to be unpleasant; he knew he wanted to do it, but he couldn't say why, until the moment that his mouth was stuffed full of hard cock and he tasted Arthur's skin and felt the flutter of Arthur's belly under his fingertips. They rocked together and it was slow and easy, and Merlin thought maybe he could do this all night, right up to the moment when he knew he was coming, and panicked because _no_, Arthur couldn't want him to do that there. He squirmed his hips and tried to pull back, so determined that it took him until it was too late anyway to realise Arthur was holding him in place.

Then he was coming _in Arthur's mouth_, and he looked down and there was some on Arthur's chin, somehow, when he'd done, and Merlin forgot about sucking Arthur's cock and wriggled around to lick his face instead while Arthur rubbed himself off on Merlin's hip, and Merlin wondered if they'd ever stop, if the world would just leave them the fuck alone to do this until they both died, because it felt fucking _good_.

And then, curled up in rough sheets, grinning ear-to-ear and waiting for Arthur to finish cleaning them both up, Merlin fell sound asleep.

*

Merlin was dreaming. He and Arthur were playing dice to decide which one of them was going to tell Uther they were having sex together, and he was losing. Someone - Sir Leon, judging by the coughing - was beating on the door, warning them that Uther was approaching, and Arthur had just said, "He's going to break the door down," when Merlin woke up.

The noise of someone beating on the door didn't go away, though; it just scaled down to match the actual size of the door to their room.

"Merlin," Arthur growled. "The door."

"Alright, alright, I'm going."

"Take m'sword, just in case."

"In case of what?" Merlin got out of bed, only to realise that he was, of course, naked. He fumbled around for his shirt, and Arthur's sword, and had found neither before he heard a voice from the other side of the door.

"Merlin, please! Let me in!"

"Aloysius!" Merlin grabbed his blanket from his pack and wrapped himself in that, forgot about the sword and went and opened the door.

Aloysius half-fell through the door and into Merlin's arms, and the first thing Merlin noticed was the blood. It shone greasily in the light from the hall outside, trickling down Aloysius's temples, across his cheek, and dripped from his nose.

"Arthur, some light! He's hurt! Aloysius, what happened to you?"

"Guntvig, mostly. Don't worry about me. I had to come and tell you something. It's important."

Candlelight flickered over them and Merlin could feel the warmth of Arthur's body behind him.

"Get him cleaned up, first," Arthur said. "That's a nasty head wound."

Merlin slung Aloysius's arm across his shoulders, and, with Arthur's help, half-led, half-dragged him over to the chair.

"I'll get some water," Merlin said. Arthur was looking closely at the gash on Aloysius's head. Merlin went to the water-stand, wrestling his way into his trousers (located under the bed, of all places) on the way. He poured a bowl of water, and found a clean washcloth.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Arthur asked Aloysius.

"No. He slammed my face into the wall, that's all. I hit him in the privates and ran."

Arthur gave a bark of laughter. "Well, it may be dishonourable, but in this case I'd say it's fitting."

Merlin knelt at the side of the chair, and soaked the washcloth thoroughly before wringing it out and starting to clean Aloysius's wounds. He'd seen Gaius do this more times than he cared to remember, and could only hope he'd picked up the knack.

"Thanks," Aloysius said, wincing as Merlin dabbed at a tender bit.

"Don't mention it," said Merlin. "I've got some salve somewhere; just let me make sure it's clean first."

"Congratulations, by the way." Aloysius nodded towards Arthur. "''bout time, eh?"

Merlin blushed and cleared his throat, and Arthur said, "What?"

"He can read minds," Merlin said, as casually as he could manage. "Sorry."

"What?.... Oh. Oh!" And to Merlin's delight he went as red as a beetroot. "Are you a sorcerer?" he asked Aloysius.

"No! Would I have let this happen if I was?" Aloysius pointed to his face. "I won't tell, I promise. Anyway, you've got more important things to worry about."

Merlin re-wetted the cloth and dabbed at another cut on Aloysius's cheekbone.

"What things?" said Arthur.

"The Lady," said Aloysius, and there was a world of pain in the way he said her name.

"The Lady who?" Arthur asked.

"The Lady Margaret," Merlin said. "She runs the gambling thing-"

"The Game," Aloysius said. "Or at least, she thinks she does."

"I think you'd better start at the beginning," said Arthur.

"It's not what you think," Aloysius said. "She's got nothing to do with Guntvig. He just happened to be there today. And she didn't mean Merlin any malice; you don't have to eviscerate her."

"Can you stop the mind reading?" Arthur said.

Merlin grinned to himself. He rather liked the idea of Arthur contemplating the evisceration of his enemies.

"Sorry," said Aloysius.

"There was something important you needed to tell us?" Arthur said.

"After you left, the Lady sent me to The Master. See, there's this Game. Three items, all items of magic. Whoever finds all of them and delivers them to the Master wins. So the last couple of years, me and the Lady have been travelling around the land. You learn a lot through playing dice; people bring their dirtiest secrets, their deepest fears in with their stakes. So I read minds, the Lady ran the tables and we got what we needed. Found the cup and the pendant early on, but the ring proved a lot harder. 'Til we came here, and heard the ring was right under our noses."

"I had no choice," Merlin said to Arthur. "It was that or... Guntvig."

"Had no choice about what?" said Arthur.

"I. Um. Helped Aloysius steal the ring."

"Merlin!"

"I was desperate! Guntvig was... you said so yourself!"

"It's like I hardly know you, Merlin! Gambling, stealing... are there any other little secrets you'd like to let me in on?"

"If you really must know I-"

"Ow!" Aloysius screamed. "Merlin, that hurts!"

Merlin dragged his attention back to what he was doing. "Sorry. It's deep. You should probably have it sewn up."

Aloysius went visibly pale.

"I'll do what I can," Merlin said. "Hang on, I'll get that salve."

"So," Arthur said. "You and Merlin stole this ring."

"Yes. After you left this evening, she sent me to meet the Master and tell him she's got the items. So I did-"

"Wait," Arthur said. "This 'Master' just happens to be in town?"

"We have ways of contacting him," Aloysius said. "He has certain talents, if you know what I mean."

"A sorcerer?" said Merlin, painfully aware of Arthur tensing beside him at the mere sound of the word.

"Probably, yes. They don't all wear pointy hats, you know; it can be hard to tell."

Merlin concentrated hard on unscrewing the jar of salve and scooping out a generous amount. "This might sting a bit."

"Who's got the ring now?" Arthur said. "It must be of some magical value if this sorcerer wants it."

"We're to meet him at Neath tomorrow, at dawn, to hand over the items. And he had one other request." Aloysius looked down, twisting his bloodied bandana in his hands. "He told the Lady to bring you, Merlin."

"Merlin?!" Arthur exclaimed. "What could he possibly want with Merlin?"

"I'm not sure," Aloysius said, his eyes locked on Merlin's. "It's a mystery to us."

"That's easy," said Merlin. "It's a trap. He thinks if I go, Arthur will go with me."

"I certainly will," Arthur said. "I think this sorcerer has run his last game, don't you?"

"No, Arthur!" said Merlin. "What is it with you? Didn't you hear the word 'trap'?"

Arthur shrugged. "He doesn't know I've worked it out. I therefore have the advantage."

"Yes," Merlin said, pushing to his feet, mindless of the stool clattering over behind him. "You have the advantage of staying here and not putting yourself in danger!"

"And since when did _you_ get to tell _me_ what to do, Merlin?!"

"Since you got too blockheaded to save your own stupid hide!"

"Um," said Aloysius, "Sorry to break up the lover's tiff here, but my head hurts like fuck, so if we could get to the part where we all leave for Neath, that would be great."

"He's not coming," Merlin said. "It's my mess, I'll deal with it."

"I most certainly am coming," said Arthur. "How on earth could you manage to defeat a sorcerer all by yourself?"

Merlin and Aloysius exchanged a glance. Aloysius shrugged.

"I just don't think you should take the risk," Merlin said.

"Merlin." Arthur lay his hand on Merlin's shoulder, warm skin on cold, and said, "When will you learn that actually, I'm really quite good at this kind of thing?"

Merlin sighed, thinking how nice it felt to have Arthur touch him, how stupid Arthur was, and how many times Arthur would have died without him.

"Alright," said Merlin. "I'll get the horses."

*


	7. Chapter 7

"Look on the bright side, Merlin. At least we were headed this way anyway."

"I suppose." Merlin took comfort from the brush of Ferox's fur against his cheek. Arthur didn't really approve of her being out of her cage but she'd kept crying, very unhappy at being roused from a nice sleep by a warm fire and dragged out of doors into the morning chill. Merlin felt a good deal of empathy for the creature: he wasn't at all keen on this quest either.

"Bit of a coincidence, really," said Arthur. "It being the same place."

"Big local landmark," said Merlin. "I hope Aloysius is alright."

"I just hope we can trust him."

"Hmm." Truthfully, Merlin couldn't be sure he did. In fact, he couldn't really recall Aloysius stating an allegiance; he may have given them a warning but there was no way of knowing whether it was just a more elaborate kind of trap.

Except that Aloysius had looked so very frightened when he'd left Arthur and Merlin to go back to the Fox and the Lady, and Merlin remembered the tremble of the boy's hand after they stole the ring.

Ferox settled herself around Merlin's shoulders, and he wound her lead securely around his hand, and they were on their way.

They followed a fork in the road about a mile from the town, which quickly narrowed to a rough dirt-track, rarely used. The path was completely straight and true, not a bend or deviation in sight; it crossed a stream, cut through an outcrop of rock, and finally climbed a hill.

On top of the hill, shrouded in morning mist and silhouetted against an angry dawn sky, were the crumbling remains of the fort.

"Looks welcoming," said Merlin. "Maybe there's another tree somewhere else. We should check."

"Come on, Merlin. This whole journey was your idea in the first place!"

Merlin wanted to say something about being pretty certain he'd already had the best thing this journey had to offer, and was there any chance of going back to Camelot at full gallop to have it some more, but he couldn't quite find the words.

Besides, he had no reason to assume it would ever happen again.

And that was a truly depressing thought.

"Merlin?"

"Let's get this over with," Merlin said, and nudged his horse back into motion.

The sun was edging above the horizon by the time they arrived at the ruined gatehouse. They left the horses and Ferox outside, Ferox grumbling loudly as Merlin tucked her back in her cage. Merlin followed Arthur cautiously through the huge arch where the southern gates once stood, to the courtyard beyond; a tiny fraction of the size of Camelot, everything square and linear, but of the same sturdy construction.

Merlin heard the tree long before he saw it. A familiar chime in his head, agonising and beautiful all at once. Ignoring Arthur's direction to continue on their path through the centre of the fort, Merlin followed his instinct and turned into what had once been a room of considerable size. Intricately patterned tiles still showed through the dirt and dust; there was cracked paint on the walls.

In the centre of the room was a shallow pool, and just beyond it, growing wild through brick and stone, the tree.

It was magic. It sang. Merlin reached out, suddenly desperate to _touch_…

"Merlin!" Arthur grabbed Merlin's shoulder and pulled him back. "Be careful, you idiot. The floor's not safe!"

Merlin dragged his eyes from the tree and looked down: Arthur was right. There were huge cracks in the floor, revealing what looked like a maze of tunnels a good distance below, pillars and vaults, like the Great Hall in miniature.

"Come _on_, Merlin," Arthur whispered, pulling Merlin into the shadows of a recess in the wall. "If nothing else we can use our element of surprise. They might not come alone, and I don't like the idea of being outnumbered in a place like this."

"Maybe you should have brought an elephant."

"I don't think it would have got through the doors, Merlin."

Merlin snorted.

Arthur gave him a sidelong glance. "Merlin, do you even know what an elephant looks like?"

"Yeah, 'course I do. It's… big. And, um, hairy."

Arthur laughed softly. "Not exactly. Although, you were right about the size. They're about twice the height of a horse and they could fell a line of men just with a swing of their trunks."

"Trunks?"

"You know, their-" Arthur dangled his arm in front of his face in an inexplicable gesture. "-well, their noses, only really really long, like a tail, and they have tusks and huge ears and…."

Merlin stared at Arthur as if he were mad.

"I know it sounds a little outlandish," Arthur said.

"Just a little," Merlin said.

"There were pictures," Arthur said, peevishly. "I'll show you when we get back. Now, shush. I can hear something."

Merlin and Arthur watched from their hiding place as three cloaked figures entered the courtyard. Merlin recognised the Lady and Aloysius immediately; the third must be the Master. when he finally pulled back his cloak it was to reveal only a mask; smooth black with feathers etched at the edges, narrow slits for him to see through.

"You are sure he will be here?" said the Master, his voice deep, distorted somewhat by the mask and the echo of the room.

"Yes, my Lord," said the Lady.

"And he is the one I asked for? The Lord of Dragons?"

Merlin went cold; his stomach flipped.

"That's _Pen_dragon, you idiot," Arthur muttered. "And I'm a Prince. Honestly, Merlin, sorcerers. They're not just warped, they're _stupid_."

Merlin closed his eyes for a moment, loving Arthur from the bottom of his heart for his innocence, his arrogance and his absolute, misplaced, trust. At the same time a few things were dropping into place: why here, why him, why the tree. And why, Merlin thought, possibilities scrambling around his brain, he had to get Arthur out of here, and fast, before someone said something so incriminating even Arthur couldn't deny it.

"You can give me the items while we're waiting, my dear," the Master said. "Let's see the proof of your cunning."

"What are you going to do with them?" Aloysius asked. He looked pale, showing none of the swagger he'd had when Merlin first met him.

"Not that it's any of your business, boy, but I'm going to forge the mightiest magical weapon ever known. Can you hear it? The song of the tree, ringing with power and magic? Oh, no, of course you can't. You can only read minds, isn't that so? And even then, only the tiny minds of ordinary people."

Aloysius nodded meekly.

"And yet, without you we would never have found the Lord of Dragons." The Master leaned in closer to Aloysius, his voice low and menacing. "You deserve a reward. Doesn't he, my Lady?"

"Eryr, no. The boy hasn't done anything."

Aloysius stepped back, terrified. "Please, I didn't mean anything! I don't know anything; I just did as I was told! Please!"

The Master raised his hand, one cruel finger pointed at Aloysius's heart, and as the Lady screamed "No!" Arthur's arm shot across Merlin's chest, holding him back.

The Master shouted a single word, and Aloysius froze, as if turned to stone; his face twisted in fear, his fists clenched, his hips twisted, trying, too late, to turn and run.

Anger flared in Merlin's chest; he struggled in Arthur's hold. The Lady turned on The Master, furious.

"You had no reason to do that, Eryr. Release him."

"I don't think so," said the Master. "I think you're going to hand the items over now. And if the Lord of Dragon's doesn't show up, I'm thinking the boy might have a future as a garden ornament. I have a space near the fountain. Do you remember, My Lady? You used to like walking there, once upon a time."

"I'm telling you for the last time, Eryr: release him. Or you will have had a wasted journey."

The Master - Eryr - sighed. "I tire of this, My Lady. And as for you, Lord of Dragons, you may as well come out of the shadows. Let's get this over with."

"Shit," muttered Arthur, and with a shove to Merlin's chest to keep him behind him, he strode out into the room. Merlin staggered to keep his footing and scrambled out of their hiding place a little way behind, heart racing.

"Interesting," said Eryr.

"It's me you want," said Merlin. "Leave him alone."

"No!" said Arthur, but before Merlin could do anything Eryr's hand had come up and Merlin _felt_ the streak of energy rush past him, and suddenly, terribly, Arthur was still.

"You'll regret that," Merlin growled, working hard to tame his magic, to stop himself from blasting Eryr where he stood. _He's still alive, he's still alive, he's still alive…_

"That's better," Eryr said. "Now we've got rid of all these-" He waved his hand dismissively. "-extraneous people, let's get down to business. My Lady, the items."

"I won't co-operate," Merlin said.

"No, I don't suppose you will, at first." The Master sighed. "A demonstration, then."

Eryr reached towards Aloysius, but this time his fingers curled, traced a delicate pattern in the air and it was only at the last moment that Merlin felt the _push_ of magic.

Aloysius's form shifted, twisted, fell and rose again, not as a young man but as a rat with big black whiskers and a long, scaly tail. He took one look at Eryr, squeaked in terror, and fled.

"Now," said Eryr. "What shall I turn the Prince of Camelot into? A dog, perhaps, a little yappy puppy? A snake? Or a rabbit, perhaps. He would make good hunting."

"Tell me what to do," said Merlin. "But don't think you're going to get away with this."

"Excellent," said Eryr, his eyes glittering with malice behind his mask. "Come here."

Merlin approached Eryr slowly, not taking his eyes off him for a second. The sound of the tree filled Merlin's head.

"Stand in the water," Eryr said. "And touch the tree."

Merlin stepped reluctantly into the pool; water quickly flooded his boots, lapped at his calves. He didn't feel the cold; the tree called to him, strong and strangely soothing. He touched the crisp, warm bark, and closed his eyes.

_Merlin_

Merlin breathed, felt magic course through him, blending with his own.

Then a cold, clammy hand grasped his other wrist, and power shot through him, from the tree to Merlin, from Merlin to the pool, and from the pool to Eryr.

"Now, my Lady," said Eryr. "The items."

Eryr held out his other hand to the Lady, and waited.

Very slowly her hands went to the back of neck, and unclasped her pendant.

She passed it to Eryr; he dropped it into the pool and Merlin felt a soft fizz as it dissolved to golden liquid, swirling around his boots. The Lady pulled her dice cup from the recesses of her cloak, and placed it in Eyry's hand. Again, he dropped it to the pool, and like the pendant it melted into the water.

The Lady stepped back, hesitated.

"And the ring," he said. "Come on. Don't make me take your lovely finger along with it."

"Oh Eryr," she said. "So dramatic."

"I could, you know."

The Lady sighed. "I know." She slipped the ring from her finger.

"No," Merlin whispered.

"I loved him like a son," she said. "For that, I cannot forgive you, Eryr."

The Master's hand shook with sudden anger; he dropped Merlin's arm and turned towards her.

"No!" Merlin said. "Leave her alone."

"I'm sorry, Merlin," the Lady said, and tossed the ring away. It hit the floor, rattled, rolled, and with a dull thud fell through a crack.

The magic around Merlin changed, blackened, grew fierce and wrong.

Eryr roared with anger, and power exploded around them. The Lady fell screaming to the floor, convulsed and scratched at the hard stone beneath her; Merlin wrenched himself from the tree and the pool and rushed to her, falling to his knees by her side.

She was quiet, barely breathing. Her lips were blue and where Merlin held her he felt strange shapes within her, shifting and moving, sickening.

"Believe me, It was never my intention to hurt Aloysius, Merlin," the Lady whispered. Her eyes were wet; her fingertips were trembling. "Kill Eryr and his magic dies with him. Save them, if you can, Merlin. Good luck."

Her body went blessedly limp in Merlin's arms. He turned to Eryr and held out his hand with deadly calm. The magic of the tree still coursed through him; the power of a Dragonlord, of a sorcerer, of the fire and the earth, of the wind and the water.

Merlin threw the force of his anger at Eryr, and in a swirl of light and dust, Eryr was gone.

The tree roared in Merlin's head; the fractured spell was breeding chaos and dissonance.

Merlin left the Lady's body on the stone and ran across the room to Arthur, but before he even got there he saw the flicker of life through the glassy stillness. Merlin caught Arthur before he fell, held him close and felt the life breathe back through him.

"Damn," Arthur murmured. "That hurt like fuck."

"Where'd you learn language like that?" Merlin said, with a feeble laugh.

"Must be the company I'm keeping. What happened?"

"Later," Merlin said. "We've still got a problem." He pointed at the pool, which was steaming and bubbling, mist rising and crackling with magic. "The Master started something over there and I think we have to finish it, or the world might end or… well, at the very least there'll be a big explosion or evil or _something_."

Arthur blinked at him. "What?"

"Just trust me," said Merlin. "Can you stand on your own?"

"I'm fine, Merlin," said Arthur, irritably. "Stop fussing."

"Good, 'cos we need to move fast!" Merlin grabbed Arthur's hand and ran, dodging cracks and holes in the floor, out of the room, down the passageway and back to the gatehouse, where the horses waited patiently, munching grass, oblivious to the chaos on the other side of the wall.

Arthur was about to leap onto Hengroen when Merlin stopped him. "I have to go back," Merlin said, frantically twitching at the ties on Ferox's cage. "Complete the spell."

"Why? You don't know what you're doing, Merlin; anything could happen!"

Merlin knew all too well what would happen: every instinct was screaming at him to finish this or else it would finish itself, and that would be a bad, bad thing.

Somewhere in his head echoed the voice of a dragon, and Merlin _knew_.

"Come on," Merlin said, plucking Ferox from her cage. "I don't have time to explain, Arthur. Please, trust me!"

Arthur's face was like thunder, but he said nothing, and when Merlin ran back into the fort, Arthur was at his side.

Ferox was trembling in Merlin's arms; he held her close, whispered soothing noises into her ear, stroked her soft, luxuriant fur.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I need you to do this."

He tracked across the crumbling floor until he found the place. There was a hole just a few feet away from where the Lady had fallen. Merlin put Ferox down, kissed the top of her head and whispered. "Shiny. Find the shiny, Ferox. Go on…."

Ferox slithered through the hole, and disappeared.

"Merlin!"

Arthur was pointing at the tree, but Merlin already knew. It was ripping apart, one huge branch falling into the water. The ground lurched beneath their feet, and Merlin watched helplessly as the floor cracked and crumbled. Merlin stumbled, fell to his knees, scrabbled at the ruins of the floor in the hope of catching sight of Ferox, but there was nothing but rubble. Merlin's heart sank. He felt sick.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Merlin."

Merlin choked back a sob.

"Merlin, you big girl, _here_."

Merlin looked up, saw Arthur a few feet away. There was something in his arms, something familiar, furry and very much alive.

"Ferox!" yelled Merlin, and ran across the floor, careless of the fact that it was disintegrating under every footfall.

Not only was Ferox alive, but there was a glint of gold between her teeth. Merlin buried his face shamelessly in her fur and laughed as Ferox opened her mouth to squeak at him and the ring fell safe into his palm.

*

As soon as Merlin dropped the ring into the pool, the magic swirling around them calmed. The water glowed golden, rainbow colours wrapping around the dead limb that lay there. As Merlin watched the branch split and aged; lost its leaves and withered. There was a sigh that might have been the wind, and everything was still.

The tree was quiet, then, its magic no more than a soft hum in Merlin's mind.

Merlin put his hand tentatively into the water. It felt… wet. Cold. Just water.

He curled his fingers around the branch, and pulled it out.

He tapped it experimentally on the side of the pool, shifted it in his hand.

It felt right. Comfortable to hold. It would make a pretty good walking-staff, actually.

_Merlin_

Oh. Perhaps not so much a walking-staff.

"What is that?" Arthur asked. Ferox was wrapped around his shoulders, nibbling at his hair, but he didn't seem to mind.

"I think," Merlin said, with a hint of regret, "it might be the most powerful weapon ever forged."

"Really? That's the weapon the Master talked about? Looks like a bit of old wood to me."

Merlin could feel his magic leaking from his skin into the bark, filling it with energy and its own kind of life. It felt like the Sidhe staff, only a hundred times more powerful.

Briefly Merlin considered lying to Arthur, and keeping the staff for himself. It didn't feel like a bad sort of thing. It could be incredibly useful.

Then Merlin remembered Excalibur, and the dragon, and said, "it could be dangerous, you never know. We should keep it somewhere safe."

Arthur nodded his agreement. "Come on, Merlin. Let's get out of here."

Merlin had turned to follow Arthur, the staff comfortable in his hand, as if he'd always held it there, when he remembered.

"Just a moment," he said. "Take this. Go back to the horses. I've just got to get the thing, for Gaius. It's over there. I'll catch up in a minute."

Arthur shrugged, took the staff and made his way across the shattered floor.

Merlin pulled a small earthenware jar and a knife from his pocket, and splashed through the pool to the tree. He opened its bark, and let the sap drip slowly into the jar.

"For Leon," he whispered, when he was done. He screwed the jar tight closed, and left.

Arthur was standing by the horses, tossing the staff lightly from hand to hand, feeling its weight and heft, staring up at the sky.

"All done," Merlin said. "We can go now."

"Just a minute," Arthur said. "There's a huge hawk up there, can you see it?"

Merlin squinted through the early morning sun. The bird was calling out, circling over the fort.

"Oh yeah," Merlin said.

"Pity Rupert's not here to see it."

"He'd have run away before we even _got_ here," Merlin said.

As it happened, when they got back to Camelot it transpired that the Royal Falconer had handed in his resignation in their absence, and hadn't been seen since.

Merlin wasn't sorry.

*

Merlin finished the spell and let the magic wash from him to the newly-mixed potion in the flask on Gaius's workbench. He breathed across the surface of the liquid, causing steam to rise; the steam was sucked into a contraption Gaius had built to catch and trap the gas. It ended up a swirling cloud in a flask at the other end of a series of tubes and pipes. As soon as the flask was full Gaius stoppered it. He held it up to the light, peering curiously at it.

"Well, that should be it," he said, matter-of-factly.

"When will Leon be finished with the King?"

"I think about an hour. He said he'd call in on his way home."

Merlin slumped back on his stool. "It had better work, that's all I can say."

"I'm sure it will. You've done very well, my boy. I'm proud of you."

Merlin grinned. "I'm not sure Arthur is. He's been complaining ever since we got back that all I ever do is get him in trouble."

"I would have thought he'd have got used to that by now. The rest of us have."I can't blame Arthur for going with you, though. I should have liked to see Neath myself," Gaius said, wistfully.

"It isn't much to look at. Big ruins, magic tree, and the floors are _weird_. They have all these… tunnels, underneath."

"Tunnels?"

"Kind of. Like big pillars of rock, with gutters or something-"

"A hypercaust!" Gaius exclaimed.

"Bless you," said Merlin.

"No, they were a magnificent invention. The Romans were very advanced, Merlin, never underestimate their achievements."

"Not you too. The elephants were bad enough."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Never mind. What's a hypercaust?"

"It's a sort of heating, Merlin. Instead of having big smoky fires like we do, they heated water and channeled it under the floors. Heat rises, you see. Quite a miracle of engineering. Heated the water in the bath-houses, too."

"You mean, no-one had to run up and down stairs with buckets of hot water all the time?"

"Well, no, I suppose not."

"Oh," said Merlin, wistfully.

"Anyway, I hope you've learned your lesson about gambling, Merlin. It never ends well."

"Don't worry, I have. But… it's complicated, you know? The Lady and Aloysius weren't like other gamblers. I know what they did was wrong, but I felt so sorry for her, at the end. And Aloysius…. it's very sad."

Gaius leaned back against the bench, arms folded across his chest. "There was a story I heard once from a storyteller who came here to Camelot, many years ago. It was about a noblewoman who lived in the lands far to the west. The Lady was alone, with no suitors and no friends, her only companion a hawk. She loved this hawk so much that she paid a sorcerer to change his shape to that of a man, so that he could marry her. But the hawk as a man was nothing like the hawk she'd known as a bird, and so their love withered and died, and she cast him from her realm. The hawk was devastated and swore that one day he would have his revenge."

Merlin and Gaius exchanged a long look. "Do you think-" Merlin started.

There was a knock on the door, a cough, and Leon came in. He looked pale, and Merlin could hear the rasp of his breath across the room.

"Ah, Sir Leon!" said Gaius. "I have a new remedy for you to try, if you will?"

"I'll try anything once," Leon said, with a weak smile. "Never give up, eh Merlin?"

"No," said Merlin. "Never give up."

*

"So," said Arthur, who was sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling on his nightshirt. "Leon starts back training again tomorrow. I can scarcely believe it."

"No," said Merlin. "Me neither." He squinted at his darning needle, steering the thread through the eye. Ferox watched him, curious, her beady little eyes watching the play of the firelight on the metal.

"Don't even think about it," Merlin told her. "I've already lost four in the past week. Camelot doesn't have an endless supply of shiny objects, you know."

Ferox grunt-squeaked at him, and waddled off to her spot by the fire.

"Merlin," said Arthur.

"Mmm?"

"What happened in Riverthorn…."

"Oh."

Merlin put his mending down. He'd been waiting for this talk ever since they'd got back from their trip, and hoping that perhaps it wouldn't happen. He'd been very careful not to mention it himself, or to presume anything, or expect anything. When they stopped on the way back he was very particular about securing a room with two beds, and once back at Camelot it was pleasantly simple to revert to their old routine.

That wasn't to say that Merlin didn't lie awake at night remembering Arthur's touch on his skin, or the warmth of his kisses. But he also knew it belonged in the past and he most certainly didn't want to _talk_ about it.

"I was wondering. If you wanted to, I don't know, do it again some time."

Merlin stared. Arthur shrugged, not quite meeting his eye. Merlin knew that look; Arthur was bracing himself for bad news. For rejection.

"Really?" Merlin had hoped for casual, but his voice came out as nothing short of eager.

Arthur patted the bed at his side, a delighted sort of smile playing on his lips.

Heart soaring, Merlin joined him.

  
_fin_

Extracts from Vegetius, by** Arnheimsdomain**

[ ](http://www.scribblemoose.co.uk/images/arnheim/Vegetius-b-Ferox-mockup-Pages.jpg)

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